Satisfaction guaranteed...

There are many people in the world (far, far too many) who expect a little bit too much out of life. The man who wants the ideal partner - beautiful, stunning body, intelligent, rich, can suck a golf ball through a hosepipe and is a beer empire heiress (to borrow the Perfect Australian Woman joke).The man who has the vision of what would be perfect and will settle for nothing less, despite being an overweight sweatbag who's main hobbies - of watching porn whilst eating wotsits - has turned his cock orange.

Ain't going to happen mate. Probably best to stick to the lottery from now on, and then if you're incredibly lucky you can rent a close approximation.

Equally there are women out there who see the charming, rugged salesperson with the cheeky wink in his eye and want *that* so long as he also earns a fortune, never works late, is spontaneously romantic whilst never becoming predictable, can sense your moods and produce chocolate in response, is utterly faithful, leaves the toilet seat down and does the washing up himself right after having cooked an amazing meal.

And whilst the number one pleasurable past-time for the majority of men is 'idly scratching their bollocks', that ain't going to happen either.

On the flip side, there are a surprising number of people in the world who want one, single thing and they don't care about anything else. The people who happily live in utter squalor so long as they have a 42" flatscreen TV, the people who think a 1.2 Vauxhall Corsa is a cool car so long as the exhaust is wider than their head, the men who will only date a blonde regardless of any other characteristic, anyone who votes for UKIP or the BNP, the women who will happily bankrupt themselves for another pair of shoes (hello Sis) and those people who sacrifice any scrap of self-respect just to be popular - a few examples amongst millions...

You may wonder why I've started on this topic, and the reason is simple.

I stupidly (in a bid to settle a point of order between Mrs RS and myself about whether putting naked pictures of yourself on t'interweb qualifies you for the title 'Porn Star') googled the stage name for Ms Porn Site of yesterday.

Jesus christ.

I learnt three things:

1. Google safesearch is your friend.
2. Alcohol isn't target-specific enough to wipe your short-term memory.
3. There are some people who will pay ANYTHING to see pictures of two footballs attached to a swamp-donkey.

It's not like I'd ever claim to not like breasts, but it's what they're attached to that's slightly more important. I feel both unclean and vindicated at the same time....