Mr. Frosty

Unless you’ve had your eyelids sello-taped shut for the past week you may have noticed that there’s been a bit of snowy weather – at least for most of the country. A few of us even got a day off work. Woo hoo.

Whilst some of us wasted it snuggled up in front of the gogglebox and others skipped around in the frozen rain-dust like wide-eyed puppies, Matt, a friend of mine with a cheery face but a daft haircut, switched his brain-box to full capacity and devised a way to use the snow to full flirtatious effect.

He went out there and built a snowman of epic proportions.

Not for him a couple of shoddily made ice balls stacked atop each other, oh no. This was an ice sculpture of such skill and detail that people couldn’t help but stop and stare. An enormous beast with fully crafted arms and legs, and attire better suited to a 19th century king, this creation spanked the frozen white buttocks off any snowman ever seen.

For the first hour or so, when his sculpture looked no different to any other idiot’s attempt, he was a lone man, crafting in the wilderness, but, after a while, when the glory and majesty began to take shape, people began to notice. Their heads turned, they stopped, they offered up aid, or simply stood and stared in awe.

And once the spectacle was complete, a swath of excitable snow fans came over to have their picture taken….

What a corking way to chat to new faces and, more importantly, get numbers for future use. The digits of no less than six ladies now reside in young Matt’s pocket. Each one gathered after a girl approached him and his glorious snowpal – a totally new scenario to this usually ‘unlucky in love’ chap.

You may be wondering why I am telling you this tale of success and glee, and you would be right to wonder. Well my friends it seems that Mr. Frosty is not done with us yet. We are set to have another downpour of the white stuff over the weekend, so I just thought I’d keep the spirit of flirting alive in your zero degree noggins. Perhaps you too could get your taut little buttocks out there and build a flirt-magnet of your very own.

After all, I hate to mention it, but the dreaded ‘V-Day’ is creeping up on us and bagging a date for the big day is beginning to poke gently at our brains – or at least it is at mine… but then again, when isn’t bagging a date on my mind. Exactly, never.

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