Recently, during a leisurely stroll through the charming streets of a quaint Devon town, I spotted a glimmering object lying innocently on the side of the pavement. My immediate reaction? ‘Ooh, a shiny bracelet!’
Naturally, my imagination began to race, picturing it as the latest trend—a statement piece that would surely elevate my status as a style guru, at least in the confines of my own mind. My fashion model wife on the other hand, views me more as a ‘what-not-to-wear’ case study than a style icon – but who needs her validation anyway?
With my new ‘bracelet’ on my left wrist next to my watch, I confidently trotted back to my car, brimming with pride and anticipation. Little did I know that my evening would take an unexpected turn. When I picked up my teenage daughter from a friend’s, she took one look at my wrist and exclaimed, ‘Take that off! It’s disgusting!’
‘Disgusting?’ I replied, genuinely bewildered. ‘But look at the sparkle! This is top-tier jewellery! I look a decade younger!’
Young people today just don’t understand the heights of sartorial genius.
Once home, I admired my newfound accessory but quickly realised it was a bit tight on my wrist. A moment of brilliance struck: why not try it on our adorable terrier? However, his neck was far too chunky, and my dreams of him becoming the next rat-catching Patterdale fashion guru came crashing down. But then I had another idea—surely, Mouse the cat would look fetching with it!
Much to my delight, Mouse strutted around the kitchen, channelling her inner runway model. I felt like a proud parent watching his child perform in a school play—beaming with joy.
Later that evening, my wife arrived home and quickly spotted Mouse sporting my treasure. I eagerly awaited her reaction, half-expecting her to fall to her knees in admiration at the new lease of life I’d given our 14-year-old moggie. Instead, she froze, her incredulous gaze transfixed on our unsuspecting cat.
‘That’s not a collar, you fuckwit. That’s a cock ring!’ she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of disbelief and disgust.
(I still have no idea how she knew with such certainty what my treasure was).
In mere seconds, I went from the proud finder of a ‘fashionable treasure’ to the subject of ridicule within my own family. My wife’s expression was one I’ll never forget—she looked as if I’d just brought home a live tarantula instead of a bracelet/cute cat accessory.
Desperate to salvage my dignity—and entertain myself—I decided to bring the infamous find to our local rugby training session later that week. Surely, my mates would appreciate the humour in this bizarre situation, right? I unveiled my ‘cock ring’ triumphantly and watched as my friends erupted into fits of laughter.
‘Only you could find a cock ring and mistake it for a bracelet!’ one mate wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. The laughter grew louder, and I started to feel like a comedic hero rather than the bewildered fashionista who had made such a blunder. My sense of embarrassment swiftly morphed into appreciation for the absurdity of the situation.
As fate would have it, my Deputy Editor, Bembridge, worked out that the item must have been dropped during a gay pride event that had taken place in the town a couple of months back. Highly suspiciously, he advised me to send it to him in Chiswick after giving it a good wash.
In a moment of inspiration, I sent him a Hula Hoop instead.
If anyone fancies becoming the next Deputy Editor of Country squire Magazine, do give me a ring drop me a line.
Dom Wightman is the Editor of Country Squire Magazine.
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You must have very slim wrists or the loser of the ahem ‘item’ was indeed a luckily blessed man