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Jak1111's Profile. (463114)
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Personal Information | |||
| Religion | Other | Eye Colour | Blue |
| Drinking | Light / Social Drinker | Hair Colour | White / Grey |
| Smoking | Non-Smoker | Build | Athletic |
| Height | 5'7''-5'11'' (170-180cm) | Education | Graduate/Masters Degree |
| Occupation | Self-employed | ||
| Interests | Nature, Arts / Crafts, Museums / Galleries, Gardening, Music - Country, Music - Alternative, Music - Classical / Opera, Music - Blues/Jazz, Music - Pop / R&B, Music - Rock, Hiking / Camping, Politics, Literature / History, Religion, Cycling, Cricket, Football / Soccer / Rugby, Golf, Gym / Aerobics, Athletics, Sailing / Boating, Ice / Snow Sports, Tennis / Racket Sports, Computers / Internet, Theatre / Ballet, Travel / Sightseeing | ||
Ideal Partner: |
| Female between the ages of 35 and 64 |
| Have you experienced your "Bathroom Floor Moment"? Do you feel there is more to life than this? Are you hoping to meet a kind attentive, generous, intelligent, well-healed, well endowed, and handsome man who cleans his teeth twice a day? If so you will be very, very lucky! However, I would do my very best to fill that gap. I enjoy the company of an attractive woman who is articulate, opinionated and open minded. I love a good passionate, non-threatening, flirty argument. Humour consideration and understanding are vital. I am in a sexless marriage but cannot escape my obligations to my children and wider family. I am keen to meet someone for meals, walks, exercise and short holidays. I want a relationship based on friendship and shared interests. I reealise that life is complex: Why do women need 96 pairs of shoes and 27 handbags? I know it is bad if I pass wind (from either end) in public but sometimes it just happens. I know that the surest way to please a woman is to leave the toilet seat down and eliminate skid marks. I know that Jimmy Choo makes gum but I do not know which flavours. I understand chaos theory, and realise that the flutter of a butterfly's wings in Patagonia will determine whether I find the woman of my dreams on this site. So far they have not fluttered in the right way. Get a grip butterflies! I know that in a previous incarnation I was a bacterium called Colin, and I lived in the gut of a seamstress and part-time singer from Salisbury called Victoria Cave(spinster). I also know that seventeen curvaceous angels can dance on the head of a standard pin. (fifteen ample, sixteen angels, nineteen slim) |
| Type of Relationship Friendship, Short Term Relationship, Long Term Relationship, Romance & Fun, See how it goes |
More Information |
| General |
| I love my job. I started my business with a colleague 16 years ago and I travel mostly in the UK and sometimes abroad. I can talk about almost anything and I am a good listener. I am very keen not to upset anybody's domestic arrangements. I enjoy flirting over a meal. I love the coast, the countryside and short breaks in interesting places. If you have some spare time have a look at these romantic stories: A Farewell to Arms by JAK Hemmingway I am early; as I wait the shrapnel lodged less than an inch from my spinal cord starts to throb (it is inoperable - a constant, guilty, reminder of those damned African Wars!) I am always nervous that she won't appear but she always does. I am enraptured by her smile, her loveliness and her quirkiness. She says she is attracted by my honesty, creativity and humour. The meal is lovely, I reserved the best seats and I am a personal friend of Klaus, the owner. (He is Belgian, has a shaven head, an eye patch, and always carries an ebony baton with an embossed silver eagle - we were in the Foreign Legion together. His best friend is his African Squirrel Monkey "Rooster" that is normally perched on his shoulder eating a peach - war does strange things to a man) When she arrives we talk about our lives and how fate brought us together that night in Beirut. We often gaze silently into each other's eyes and contemplate how blessed we are to be here and why it is that we are so fortunate when the world is full of misery and depression. We both smell lovely - she of Chanel Allure, me of something I got for Christmas in 1998(it has been kept safe in a cupboard). She sniffs the rose I bought her from the itinerant Mexican flower seller with the wobbly leg. (it makes her sneeze twice and we both laugh ) I wonder if the chips will be as good as those my nanny used to make. She plays with her olives. When we touch we feel electricity. We regularly exchange our secret smiles. Her fingers move slowly to her neck where she toys with the diamond necklace I gave her on my return from Africa. Beneath the table she has slipped off your Manolos and her soft and agile feet caress my firm legs and taut thighs.(her legs are long; her knees double-jointed) The warm smell of colitas rises up through the air. (We are in Southern California: me to finish my book "Mercenary Dog: My Story" her to advise Paris Hilton about her ferrets) The distant sounds of a mariachi band can be heard above the gentle swish of the waves below. The throbbing of my shrapnel is replaced by the throbbing of my...heart. That starry starry night, in Anthony's Bar and Grill at the Western World Club beneath the Hotel Yorba I told her 39 times that I loved her... My Story I was born in 1960, the fourth son of the Duke and Duchess of Westmoreland. My eldest brother, Donald sits in the House of Lords and was recently made Minister with special responsibility for stationery in the new government. My brother, Ronald became Bishop of Lincoln, and has been in the news as a strong advocate of the ancient right of the clergy to be exempted from parking fines. My elder brother, Harold, is a consultant gynecologist and Olympic Gold Medal winner who breeds rare pigs in his spare time. Needless to say, confronted by all this achievement, I am regarded as the black sheep of the family. I hardly ever saw my mother. She was always off to some function or other dressed up in her finery with pearls dangling everywhere. I was seven before I was properly introduced. I was brought up by “Lumley” my nanny. I loved Lumley. She made the most scrumptious chips and always gave me a nice long cuddle at bedtime. She was my best friend until she was dismissed by my father when I was sixteen. I still miss her cuddles. It was no surprise then, that after I was expelled from Eton, I drifted. I worked on yachts in the Caribbean smuggling I don’t know what. I formed a reggae band that had a number four hit in Bolivia. I organised a cooperative for displaced Cuban political prisoners selling trinkets to German tourists, and finally ended up in African fighting as a mercenary for Mad Mark Malone, the crazed one-legged veteran of coups and violent instability that has plagued Africa for many years. I know feel more contented with my life and hence my relocation to California to write my magnum opus that has already been talked about as a film with Leonardo di Caprio the favourite to play a younger me. Klaus’s Story For the beginning the fates had conspired against Klaus; he was Belgian. His mother almost strangled him at birth as she wanted a girl; however a passing circus offered to buy him for a bottle of brandy and his mother readily accepted. Klaus found himself living an itinerant life with a band of exotic and eccentric people as they toured the towns and cities of northern Westphalia. For a time he was Conrad “The World’s Smallest Man”, but by the time he was six he could no longer fulfill that role. At the age of fourteen and whilst still with the circus, Klaus married for the first time. His bride was a fifteen year old Hungarian called Magda. Magda the Magyar, as she as known, was a contortionist acrobat, who tied and untied herself in knots during her trapeze act. Sadly, soon after they were married, she was too late in untying herself and plunged to her death in an ungainly heap. In despair, Klaus escaped from the circus and fled to Morocco, where he enlisted in the French Foreign Legion. There he lost an eye in a fight with Bulgarian carpet smuggler and married for a second time to Ayisha the daughter of a tribal chief. Unfortunately, the union was doomed, as Legionnaires were not allowed to marry. Once more, in deep despair, Klaus fled to the Congo. Now a hardened fighter, Klaus fought bravely for any rebel group that would pay him. He amassed a great fortune and for a while he lived in London. He dated many beautiful women who were entranced by his tales of adventure. He married again, this time to the daughter of the Duke of Montrose. But, once again, he was unlucky in love as she became increasingly upset at the site of his glass eye rolling around on the bedside cabinet. Yet again in despair, he fled; this time to Mexico. Here he married Conchita a sombrero seller from Tijuana. Again Klaus was distraught when, after discovering that he was Belgian, she fled to Mexico City. But Klaus’s story has a happy ending. He entered the USA illegally to set up his famous Anthony’s Bar and Grill. He rejected the company of fickle and fancy women and instead lavishes his love on his squirrel monkey, Rooster. In California, it is legal to marry primates and this he intends to do very shortly. Her Story Being a Basildon girl, she couldn’t wait to leave school and take up a job in the Council Tax Department at the Town Hall. There, she met Roy, and, for a time, the holidays in Malaga and the Sunday barbecues were enough to satisfy her lust for life. But when she was 19, she met Jerome. He was an apprentice full back with Southend United and he introduced her to the heady world of professional sport. Soon Roy could not compete despite his attempts to woo her back by buying her a two year old Subaru. Within a year she had become one of England’s most famous WAGS, moving from player to player, and club to club. Roy found solace in drink, his new white Mercedes van and regular visits to Ayia Napa. But the intrusion of the tabloids became too much for her and when The Sun started to refer to her constantly as “The Wag with the Bag” because of her need to change her handbag every day, she decided to reevaluate her life. On the advice of a former friend of John Terry, she moved to a nunnery near Beirut, where the nuns bred ferrets. One spring day, whilst out collecting food for her ferrets, she met him as he walked gingerly along the coastal path fighting his demons and searching for a purpose in life. They were as flotsam and jetsam thrown together on the spume that is life. (Thrills and Swoon circa 2005) Opposite Poles Attract by Prof JAK Dawkins Ever since Floella Benjamin mentioned his name on Playschool, he was determined to become a scientist. Although he was 12 at the time, he had sent in his picture of a Mars space rocket pretending to be 4 (he won a crayon set). Twenty years later he was Professor of Particle Physics and chief advisor for the Large Hadron Collider. At school, she rarely spoke. At home, she rarely spoke. Her head was full of books. By the time she was 15 she had almost run out of books to read. It was no surprise to anyone who knew her and (very few did) that she was now Chief Librarian and part-time lecturer in the works of Thomas Pynchon. His quest was the physical; hers the metaphysical. That evening there was a reception in the Senior Common Room to celebrate the acquittal of the Vice-Chancellor from charges of embezzlement and witness intimidation. The Chilean Chardonnay flowed freely, and the little sausages on cocktail sticks and tiny mushroom vol au vents were eagerly consumed by the ravenous academics. They both had sought refuge from their increasingly boorish colleagues by moving to the corner of the room. There, beneath the bust of George Bernard Shaw, they exchanged glances and nervous smiles. Each began to wonder. He, of course, contemplated the Higgs Boson, and whether he would ever find it; she a fantasy meeting with Thomas Pynchon. Yet after two more glasses of wine and fifteen minutes of silence, other thoughts crept into their heads. He remembered that time on Crewe Station that he had picked up the New Statesman instead of the New Scientist. It contained an article by E. J. Hobsbawn entitled “Can Socialist Fall in Love? A Marxist Analysis”. It mentioned how a librarian has enticed Trotsky his rendezvous with an ice pick by taking off her galsses and letting her hair down to reveal her beauty. It got him thinking. She contemplated whether without his unkempt beard, his ridiculous, crooked, bow tie and with a decent deodorant the man standing next to her might appear a little like a younger Thomas Pynchon, and perhaps, if she explored his knowledge of physics, he might shed some light on the complexities of “Gravity’s Rainbow”... Was this the start of a most unlikely affair? (Thrills and Swoon circa 2009) Brief Encounter by JAK Becket “Darling” “Yes, darling?” “Nothing” “Darling” “Yes, darling?” “Did you like my fish paste sandwiches?” “They were utterly scrumptious, darling” “Darling” “Yes, darling?” “Nothing” “Darling” “Yes, darling?” “Well...I thought as we have been meeting like this for six months, and we’re so frightfully in love, I wondered if, one day, we might book a room in the Station Hotel get completely hammered and spend a few hours together making mad, passionate....(the rest of her sentence is obliterated by the noise of the Royal Scot as it thunders through the station) “What was that darling? Go to the Station Hotel to get more spiffing fish paste sandwiches? You are so thougtful. I love you so much” “Thank you darling” (Thrills and Swoon Classic circa 1945) Duty Calls (author unknown, probably JAK Monk) His codpiece was dangling in a most ungainly way. “Stupid Italian fashion designers” he thought to himself, but everyone was wearing one, and the Queen Mother said he had to as well. No one could contradict her. The Prince was in the Great Hall waiting for his new match the Princess Katerina of Westphalia and Wurtenberg. He had seen the pictures of her painted by his favourite Dutch painter Van der Vart but these moments were always so fraught. He paced impatiently up and down the Hall. Not only was his dangling cod piece annoying him but his sword kept chaffing his thigh and aggravating a hunting injury. His mood was not improved by his jester "Prescott" who repeated lewd jokes about the Spanish King he had heard a thousand times before. He had been in this position several times waiting for some Central European Princess or other. Duty meant he had to impregnate her to perpetuate the dynasty and form an alliance against the French and Spanish. If it was left to him he would marry the busty wench from his local tavern “The Untrustworthy Frenchman” and have done with it. He was wary and tetchy because of his experiences with the previous” ideal” Princesses paraded in front of him by the Chancellor, the creepy Archbishop Mandelson. One only seemed interested in having golden shoes made for her, another spent all her time looking into a mirror, one could only speak Serbian and the last one would only speak when a string quartet played softly in the background. The trumpets sounded. The German Princess arrived at a brisk pace her courtiers trailing in her wake. She had golden hair, a flashing smile, sparkling eyes, a perfect figure and a confident swagger. She quickly approached the Prince. “Zo. Vot haff ve here” she said as she glanced down at his codpiece. “Vot are you vaiting vor...” she announced in a typically no nonsense Teutonic tone. As the Prince led her to his chamber, he silently thanked the Queen Mother for her advice. (Thrills and Swoon circa 1456) Appiness Restored by JAK. Robot “Darling cum quick, I need you, Now!” The text from his girlfriend Zirka was unequivocal. Zak was tucked up in bed in Manchester, but he saw from his IPhone version 37 that his beautiful girlfriend Zirka was in a small town in Western Australia. “No problem” he texted back. With the functionality on his IPhone he knew he could transpond himself to Australia within seconds. He put his best bush clothes on and whoosh! – he was in Wagga Wagga in no time at all. “I’m here darling!” he said. But, something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong! She did not hear that deep husky voice that made her go all weak and starry eyed but a thin high pitched whine. Then, to his horror, Zak noticed that he was not all there. He was bereft of his manhood!!! “Of My God!” they shrieked in high pitched unison. “Don’t panic” said Zak” I have the ‘LocateMyManhood App’ on my IPhone. Yes...here it is and it says... ”What ” said a panicking Zirka”...it says it has gone to a sausage factory in Newcastle” Zak stood ashen-faced and crushed, but Zirka dashed to her IPhone. “Fortunately, I have just upgraded and it has the ‘RestoreMyManhood App” in the package as standard. Thank you Steve Jobs (his brain had been kept alive in a jar)” Zirka quickly deployed the App and within seconds Zaks manhood was back where it belonged as was his deep husky voice. Whatsmore, someone had been spared the unpleasantness of a chewy “sausage” with their bacon and egg. “Thank you Zirka. I love you so much.” “That’ll teach you not to upgrade” she said (Thrills and Swoon circa 2057 Sponsored by Apple Corp) The Joy of Trainspotting by J.A.K. Hite For many years “Trainspotting” has been a taboo subject only spoken about in hushed tones when the children have gone to bed and the vicar is not within earshot. In her book “The Joys of Trainspotting” J.A.K. Hite lifts the veil on practices that she feels all should be free to enjoy. The Station: Perhaps the most widely known of all Trainspotting methods. The spotters simply lie back in a suitable location and wait until the magnificent beast appears and then they enjoy the brief display of primeval power that unfolds before their eyes. The Tunnel: Tunnels are dark and mysterious places often the haunt of bats and other exotic creatures. Suffice to say one must take great care when spotting close to tunnels. Always take precautions such as an emergency boiled egg and a bag of crisps. An activity not for the faint hearted. The Cutting: As is the case with tunnels, cuttings are also unusual but fulfilling ways to spot what is dear to your heart. If you rummage around you will undoubtedly find a location that has not been occupied before, and it will give the greatest of pleasure when the engine whistles and you wave at the driver. The Level Crossing: To see the pistons working to their maximum power and efficiency, nothing beats the level crossing. Simply stand to the side and admire the way the machinery copes with the task of moving its loads to the places they need to go. The Helicopter: One of the best ways to appreciate the prey is to hover whilst the action occurs directly below you. If you can film the event even better as you can then show all your friends how lucky you were and how rich you must be to have achieved your goal. Please note, this book does not deal with “BusSpotting”. In the liberal-conservative age in which we live, we have no objection to this practice, but the author has no experience of how to spot a bus and feels it would be inappropriate to comment. Similarly, some people may feel that "Tramspotting" is something of a perversion, something only indulged in by continentals and Bohemians. If you like to see trams slip silently from one station to the next in almost complete silence then so be it, but it is not a pastime that I would care to pursue. (Thrills and Swoon – Adult circa 2010) They Met on IE by Jackie Bronte “Well, I’ll start by telling you a little bit about me. “When I first left school I trained to become a fighter pilot. Yes, I served in all the trouble spots, France, Monaco, Norway, and, of course, Canada. I had twenty “kills” to my name but I don’t like to talk about it now. War is a dreadful thing and I lost some of my best mates, Ginger, Taffy, and poor old Lofty; dear, dear Lofty, he was our basketball captain you know. “I left the RAF at the height of the dotcom boom and I made a million, lost it, then made it again. I invested the money in Russian oil wells, became a billionaire for a while, but got shafted by the KGB and was left penniless. That’s when I designed the world’s first wind turbine. Unfortunately, I forgot to patent it and didn’t make a penny. I was a bit downhearted after that so I became a doctor and went to Rwanda to helped eradicate polio there. I left when the job was done. “but it’s all stood me in good stead for my current job as a relief delivery driver for Tesco. “So what about you...” “Gosh that’s amazing! Well, I didn’t know what I wanted to do when I left school so I became an air hostess. I had a great time but realised that handing out cheese or chicken sandwiches wasn’t really fulfilling for me, long term; so then I auditioned for the X factor. Simon said my voice was one of the most extraordinary he had ever heard but I didn’t get to the finals. It was the year Steve Brookstein won, so the competition was fierce that year. “I then decided to become a model, for Chanel mostly. Trouble was, I couldn’t resist the croissants and put on a few too many pounds. They only want stick insects these days. “”After that, I became an actress and I got a part in Emmerdale. Yes, I played the part of Joe Sugden’s long lost Australian pen pal, Glenda. Unfortunately, Glenda got gored by a bull as soon as she arrived in Yorkshire, and is in a prolonged coma covered in bandages. Until Glenda recovers they just use a dummy. It’s cheaper apparently. “Since then I’ve been waiting for Glenda to miraculously recover, and whist I am resting, I work at the local Subway.” (Thrills and Swoon Fantasy circa 2012) They Met on IE (part 2) by Jackie Bronte “That’s fascinating; I do hope Glenda gets better. So, what sort of man are you looking for? “Well, I’ve been thinking about this a lot. “I’m looking for a good all round, honest man. I suppose my ideal would be 15% Johnny Depp, obviously; 10% Jamie Oliver to make me fantastic meals; 15% Lee Evans to wake me up in the morning with a cup of tea and some funny movements and jokes as he dashed into my bedroom; then it would be 15% Robbie Williams to sing to me when I was upset; there’d be 20% Stephen Fry, for when I have friends round, not for the bedroom obviously!!; there would be about 25% Casanova, he would definitely be for the bedroom; Nelson Mandela would be good too, maybe about 5%: then I would need a bit of Ray Mears for when we go walks; 2% would have to be Stephen Hawkins for when I want to chat about astrophysics; and 1% Superman just in case… “I’m realistic, and I know I won’t find a man exactly like that but as my grandma always said…’It isn’t the muckle it’s the mickle’. I have based my life on that principal, and I don’t see why I should change now’” “Your grandma sounds very perceptive, maybe I should think about that more often. My search for the perfect woman has always been directed by my Indian Spirit Guide ‘Startled Chipmunk’. He came to me one day in Bosnia when I was in mid air, having bailed out of my Spitfire under enemy fire. He assured me that I would be OK, and that he would always be there to help me through life. “He tells me that I need to find a woman who is ‘a Goddess in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom’. The funny thing is that when he first said that in his funny accent, I thought he said‘an undress in the kitchen and a bore in the bedroom’ so I joined several accountant nudist societies before I realised what he really said. “Startled Chipmunk has already started to talk to me about you, you know” “Oh my God…what did he say?” “I think he said, ‘That woman is a delight. She is so good for you’ but it might have been ‘That woman is a fright. Escape through the loo ’ (Thrills and Swoon – Fantasy, circa 2012) |
| My Appearance |
| I am athletic, 5 feet 10 inches; I weigh approximately 12 stones 3 1/2 lbs. I have kept fit through regular exercise. I have a flat stomach and strong legs. My bottom does not sag. My knees are not knobbly. My ears do not stick out. My nose is not bulbous. I do not have gout. I am sensitive, slow to anger and respectful. I look for advice about suitable attire as fashion remains a mystery to me. For many years I have been studying the natural world. This is the advice I have for all beautiful women: Spiders: I can help. If you find a spider in your hair or in the room I will deal with it in a nice way. (As long as it not a lethal one in which case I shall kill it with my strong legs - it would have been removed from your hair first) Mosquitos: Hate them - they will alwys be killed. Ants: You have to admire them - no matter how many yo kill they always bounce back. Other Insects: I am kind to them as long as they do not sting me. Wasps have one (only one)chance to escape but bees will never bee harmed as they are vital for our survival. Animals: I like them as long as they do not attack me. I particularly like bacon sandwiches with mushrooms and tomato. Flowers: All women should be surrounded by sweet smelling flowers at all times.(not ones bought from the petrol station) Pandas: Aaaah!...lovely but stupid - find something else to eat! Try lettuce you might like it! Sabre Tooth Tigers: Save them! Bats: If your hair is sensible they are unlikely to want to roost there. Amy Winehouse, if you are reading this, please check for bats. Snakes: There is only one poisonous snake in England. It is an adder called Nigel. He lives in a field in Devon and is very dozy. He will only bite you if you poke him. If you want to be completely snake free go to Ireland (snakes do not like the rain) Yetis / Bigfoot: Do not be alarmed, there are none of these grunting, smelly, hairy, ape-like creatures in England. You may say I am wrong and that you haven't met my partner or my ex. But I can reassure you that the only known colony of these beasts is located just outside Gateshead. The ape-like creatures near Barnsley are hoping to become Yetis - but they are Not-Yetis. Polar Bears - A SPECIAL WARNING for Scottish ladies! Scottish ladies, if, on your way to work, you are confronted by a polar bear and you feel compelled to kill it to survive, never eat it its liver - the concentration of Vitamin A will kill you! The meat is also problematic; even if you cook it well, with a nice red wine sauce, it may contain parasitic worms that will cause an agonising death. If you have any concerns or questions about the natural world please get in touch... Dear reader, congratulations, if you have got this far you have perseverence and you are beautiful, clever and caring. |
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