“Carrie, I’d like to say how sorry I am. It shouldn’t have turned out like this.” said Cupid, before going on to explain.
“I saw Carrie sitting in her flat with a bottle of Lambrini and a cat. I thought “this won’t do”. You can’t have a beautiful, rich, white girl sitting at home, bemoaning her lot in life, she is one of the chosen. So I tried to fix things.
There was this guy at her work, he looked like a Norse God. He was all bulging muscles, blond hair, blue eyes and packing a giant hammer. He seemed perfect. Anyway, I fired off the old A and thought no more about it. The system’s fool-proof, once the arrow hits, love is guaranteed.”
“Well! You can imagine my surprise when I opened the paper, to find that Carrie was having Boris Johnson’s baby. That wasn’t the man I was aiming at!”.
After 2,500 years matchmaking, it appears his skills have faded. “I’ve had the odd cock-up over the years, who hasn’t? The tendonitis in the elbow plays havoc with the draw, sometimes I forget to oil the string and the eyes aren’t what they used to be. Occasionally, accidents happen.”
“An apology is not good enough” claimed Carrie. “At my age, I should be getting shagged senseless by some Viking God, with a huge hammer. But what did I get? A pasty tub of lard with, questionable body odour, bad breath and a floppy cocktail sausage. When he’s not working, he likes to watch his bus go into a tunnel, and that’s not a euphemism. But now, I fuckin’ love him! What am I going to do?”
Following the latest embarrassment, a contrite Cupid has promised to get himself down to Specsavers. “Should have gone there in the first place.” He said.