\'Wealthy Lady of Lonely Heart,
Seeks similar Gent with love to impart\'.
\'A Lingerie Model, appeared in Vogue;
A Hollywood film and travelled the Globe\'.
And so It reads on the Personal page;
Being a \' Meal for One\' I\'ll soon engage.
So say no more and a quick reply;
\'Faint Heart never Won\' by being shy.
And so set off to make one Stop;
To retrieve my Suit from the \'Charity Shop\'.
Then all is ready for my latest fling;
A Romantic Meal at the \'Burger King\'.
And now to venture on my first Blind date;
And wondering what will be my fate.
Immaculately dressed from top to toe;
And hoping the Holes will never show.
I wait and wait at a Table for Two,
When suddenly appearing from out of the blue;
My date now stands framed in the door;
Its Doris Karloff and a whole lot more.
She looks around and heads my way;
The Theme from \'Jaws\' now seems to play.
\'Commander Dunn\'? She asked of me,
\'Late of His Majesty\'s Royal Navy\'?
Who on Earth is he as I scan the Room?
Then I realise it\'s my Nom de Plume.
\'Yes I am he\' I stand to speak;
What hope I had is getting weak.
\'Im your date tonight Emelda Pratt,
I\'m afraid my bicycle had a flat\'.
And with a Belch to Swearing a lot;
A Lady Bracknell she\'s surely not.
I ordered a Milkshake \'Shaken not Stirred\';
And proceeded to hear of exploits absurd.
Of being a Stand-in for Winslet and Streep;
Being told by Travolta she\'s light on her feet.
Of dining with Film Stars; a Recording or Two;
But the strangest of all her nose never grew.
I regaled of my Missions in a War Zone or three;
And back in the Mess for Crumpets and Tea.
Tackling assailants being a Judo Dan;
Advising the \'Top Brass\' whenever I can.
But all-in-all and to no avail;
I knew this date would surely fail.
Her constant Dreams got out of hand;
She lived within a Fantasy Land.
So - at the end I said \'Goodnight\';
And to the Exit made my flight.
To my dingy flat and my Boring life;
All Rising Damp and Neighbours Strife.
And It makes me laugh when I think of It;
How the \'Personal Add\' Wasn\'t true one bit.
For I was Truth it self all down the line;
Well- the Odd little Fib is not a crime.
I may have uttered a Whitish Lie;
My Pants aflame I can\'t deny.
But her Stories came from the Stable Floor;
These Walter Mittys I find a Bore.