Any tweet that links to a website with the words “we need to turn this country into a fucken caliphate asap” is destined to grab my attention. As soon I saw HorseyHotties.com‘s sales patter for their dating site I knew I’d have to join for the potential for über lulz:
“Are you stylish, fun loving and enjoy the social side of equestrianism? Whether its iconic racing at Ascot and Aintree, or fabulous star-studded polo meetings such as the legendary Cartier International with its Chinawhite afterparty ‘Rock The Polo’.
… then YOU are a HORSEYHOTTIE!”
Ever since Peckham Finishing School For Girls aired on BBC3 a few weeks ago, I’ve started to develop a taste for Henriettas. I’m talking about the kinda bitches who rock that country bumpkin swag but had no idea that Barbour jackets were in fashion, the kinda bitch that thinks Kat Stacks is the name of a cartoon, the kinda bi….ah you get my point.
Sheltered from all of the depravity of London-centric youth culture, her mouth free of any utterance ironic or otherwise of words like “bare”, “jokes” or worst of all “cotch”. This is essentially my version of Eddie Murphy’s untouched African bush bitch. She know would know nothing of Mattafix and I living that big city life. HorseyHotties.com promised those kinda bitches, so I signed up, on the pretense of getting a semi-amusing blogpost out of it, but secretly hoping to find someone because I can’t seem to wank away the loneliness any more.
The look she’d give if you tried to explain WorldStarHipHop.com to her.
To start building my profile to attract all da babes, I needed a picture that said “I’m just a nice and normal guy into the same things you are: dressing like farmer, leisurely pursuits, being one with nature, fox-hunting on the sly, wine, thinking that Yeo Valley rap advert is ‘hilare’, being uneasy around black people, the word ‘banter’, Radio 4, calling anyone remotely working class and young ‘a rudeboy’, being an adult and still calling your parents ‘mummy’ and ‘daddy’, horses” and other shit I’m not into.
I perused my Facebook photos and found one that said all that and more:
A photo that says I’m a man of refined taste and a master of cunnilingus.
To be completely honest, I just copied and pasted my “About Me” section from my Plentyoffish.com account (only Allah can judge me etc etc), and minutes after sending it off I got a email from HorseyHotties.com rejecting it. Man, HorseyHotties.com need to stop being such a buzz kill when I’m tryna troll my way into some pussy:
Once I actually registered and went in search of them fine dimez, it became quickly obvious that the chicks were neither horsey or hotties. I haven’t been this deceived since The Metro tried to convince me their three panel comics had punchlines or a point. The bitches on HorseyHotties.com were not the sexually repressed country bumpkins I was looking for, instead all I got was chubby 14 year olds:
Bitches unaware that they can’t get away with the age they’ve tried to put on their profile:
C’mon Naomi, be real baby, you not 25. If you are, then we need to talk about changing your skin care regime babydoll.
To summarise, all the bitches are either busted or look like small provincial town Toni & Guy salon apprentices. Not a horsey hottie in sight.
I grew tired of wading through profiles of Twilight fanfic writers with ridiculously po-faced sincere ‘About Me’ sections about being ‘bubbly’ or some kinda waffle about karma and traveling. I was never going to put a ring on on any of these bitches. Instead I spent the rest of my evening looking at every single Youtube video featuring Richard Blackwood (so worth it). But when I checked my emails the next day and found my inbox was flooded with messages from girls liking me (like that), one of them is bound to be hoping I might Rowdy Roddy Pipe her. As I write this, these are chicks straight fiending for a wickedest slam from the original bedroom bully himself (and that’s just right now, I mean next week I could be taking double bookings and shit):
I won’t lie, I got kind of excited about the prospect of getting into Oxide & Neutrino-esque scrapes with some crazy broads since my anecdote game has been slacking of late, but as soon as I tried to read and respond to my fan mail to set up some dates I was immediately hit with a pay wall:
What the fuck HorseyHotties.com? How you gonna do me like that? I thought we was cool. I thought this post was going to end in me going on a date with Victoria, 24 from London and messing up in a predictable but adorable “Oh what am I like eh?” way. Horsehotties.com you know what you gotta do if you wanna squash this beef.
But otherwise I guess: