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How to make your love life dickhead-proof

DATING is tricky when everyone you meet turns out to be a wanker. Here are five ways to dickhead-proof your love life.

Only date friends of friends

Filter new lovers by only dating friends of friends, and badgering them for awkward details about their sexual pasts. It’s only like a potential employer asking for references, except you’ll be focusing more on STDs than GSCEs. Don’t be afraid to ask how much they earn – you may as well weed out the losers from the start.

Use disclaimers

Your online dating profile is there for a reason. Use it to set out your dickhead-proof dating terms. List what you aren’t looking for in a man: no calling you crazy for stalking all his exes on Facebook, no pressuring you for a blowjob when it’s not even his birthday, no having close female friends. It’s the only way you’ll meet a normal person like yourself.

Re-educate a dickhead

Deliberately date a blatant dickhead (look for a guy who wears a fedora or rides an electric scooter) and try to convert him. Teach him never to comment on how hot your friends are and not to make Chewbacca jokes when you wear your big furry winter coat or fail to trim your muff. Be warned this is a high-risk tactic because dickheadedness is hardwired into many people’s DNA, and that’s science.

Lower your standards

Maybe you can relax your definition of ‘dickhead’ slightly. In the pursuit of true love, perhaps you should ignore the odd eye-roll when you say how much you love 90s rom-coms, brace yourself for the odd bit of piss-taking when you ineptly try to parallel park, and accept that he may never become best friends with your parents. 

Don’t have a love life 

The only guaranteed  way to ensure a dickhead-free future is to stop dating altogether. Settle down alone with a porn subscription (for sexual needs) and a pet cat (emotional and tactile needs). Take care when choosing the cat because they’re prone to being dickheads. If it’s going to piss off at random, expect you to let it in late at night and not give you a cuddle when you want one you may as well go back on Tinder.

Seven reasons I had to park right next to you, by a knobhead in an empty car park

SURE, there were only five cars in the car park, and I could have parked in 280 other places so you didn’t have to squeeze in through your driver’s door. But I had a good reason for parking right next to you.

I’m lonely 

I don’t have any friends, and modern life can be so cold and alienating. Your Ford Probe is an oasis of human warmth and kindness in an uncaring universe. Can I have a hug? Nothing sexual, I just need the human contact. D’you want to see Elf with me at the local multiplex? Oh, you’re driving off hurriedly. That’s cool, mate. 

I love you

I saw you get out of your car as I drove in and it was as if an angel had fallen from Heaven. Now I’m stalking you round the supermarket. If you’re getting fancy expensive stuff like Heinz ketchup and Magnum ice cream, I’ll pluck up the courage to ask you out. If you’re getting a can of Red Bull and a chicken tikka pastie, I’ll reconsider.

I’m an undercover police officer

I’m hiding behind your car as part of a surveillance operation on Sandra on till 5, who’s fronting a meth lab and passing drugs to her contacts as she scans their shopping. She’s got a sideline cooking up Lurpak in a trailer because it’s worth 20 per cent more than meth these days.

I’m an Audi driver

Being considerate doesn’t apply to me because I drive an Audi. You’d think I’d feel guilty, but luckily I’m a sociopath. What’s that? I parked across the white line? It says in the Highway Code that Audi drivers can do whatever they want. At least in the copies Audi dealers give you.

Your car’s more expensive than mine

There’ are only five other cars in the car park, so the odds of mine being broken into is one in six, but if I park next to yours, the chances fall dramatically. Only an idiot would make off with my 15-year-old Vauxhall Vectra when your brand new £40,000 Tesla is sitting right next to it. Having said that, there’s a much lower chance of my Vectra randomly bursting into flames so maybe I should have parked next to that Ford Fiesta.

You look like a dogger

Only a dogger would wear pyjama bottoms and a hoodie to go to the shops at 9am on a weekday. Either that or your alarm didn’t go off and you were late dropping the kids off at school. I’ve got a 50-50 chance of being right, and that four-pack of Scotch eggs in your shopping screams ‘dogger’ to me. Meet me in the lay-by down the road in ten minutes.

I’m a moron

I’m a bona fide, weapons-grade moron who needs to have a shopping trolley full of pineapples inserted up my arse. Sideways. But that won’t teach me a lesson. Because I’m a moron, you see. You’re having difficulty navigating the three-inch gap between your driver’s door and my dangerously unroadworthy 1985 Skoda? What’s wrong with that?

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