Why buy the milk, if the cow is free?

There comes a time in every muppet's life when he or she has to stop having fun and has to settle for whatever slag he or she is currently stuck with.

My time is now.

I've been stuck with my slag for what feels like eternity and as all the women and some men at my work have refused to sleep with me, I decided to make a respectable woman out of my slag.

In order to surprise her with my romantic proposal, I had to cleverly set the scene. Firstly I had to make sure that she wasn't expecting a proposal. I did this by telling her that I hated her. Secondly I had to book a romantic holiday away, with her parents, which her parents paid for. This was more elaborate as I don't like using blackmail. Thirdly I had to buy her the most expensive, the most beautiful, the most desirable engagement ring in the world. I thought that two out of three wasn't too bad, as I headed towards Argos to buy some braai tongs and an engagement ring of about the same value.

For those of you who don't know about the magical land of Argos, I will describe it to you. It's magical! They have everything you could ever think of at the end of a conveyor belt. It's obviously a magical conveyor belt because it supplies limitless amount of magic everyday. Most of my house is Argos. From my broken wardrobe to my broken digital camera. It's all Argos! And the prices are so cheap, you would think that these products are shit and would break easily, but don't think about that. Think about the magic.

Before any of you judge me on my love for Argos, I would like you to see some reviews for the ring I bought:
- "this ring is beautiful very simple but stylish. fits perfectly and looks very nice. Am very glad that i made this purchase"
- "it was easy, and easy to fetch from my argos. they had it in my size. i loved it"

So off we headed towards Turkey, known as the most romantic country in the world, according to some guy with a knife, I met in Turkey.

We stayed a week in Turkey, experiencing their culture, which is apparently discos at midnight and eating their strange foreign food, which appears to be chips and spaghetti. On the day before we were meant to return to the UK, I attempted to book a boat tour for the two of us to go on, which would whisk us off to twelve small deserted islands scattered throughout the Mediterranean Sea. It turns out that this boat tour cost more than £20, so I booked a two island tour instead.

As we set-off, our drunk captain and island tour-guide set the romantic mood by flirting with me and made me touch him. My soon to be fiancee and I giggled to each other as the sun beat down on our bronzed torsos and children threw-up over the edge of the boat into the cascading sea.

Our first and second last stop on the tour was to an island that was so deserted that there was no jetty, so our drunk captain dropped anchor a couple of miles offshore and told us to mind the sharks while swimming to the island.

I romantically clung to my slag's back as she swam towards the idyllic little island. The ring was in my pocket and was creating some kind of chemical reaction with the sea-water which in turn was burning my skin. Thankfully after only about fifteen minutes of jewelery burns, my slag dragged me onto the rocky beach. Although tired from clinging onto her back, I insisted that we go explore the island, in order to find a romantic spot where I could either secretly propose or throw rocks at tourists.

There wasn't much of a beach, and the rest of the island was either swamp or jungle, so after evading the swamp we headed towards the jungle, where I went down on one knee and tied my shoelace. Further into the jungle we stomped until our bronzed torsos were covered with the mosquitoes. That's when I told her that we're getting married.

She cried as I sprayed mosquito repellent into her face. Her screams of joy could be heard from nearly three miles away, as our boat captain fired random shots at the island with his rifle, thinking that we were being eaten by a Turkish Bigfoot.

After a leisurely swim back to the boat, mostly because my fiancee couldn't see where she was swimming, she lifted me back onto the boat. In order to retell my romanticisms to my grandchildren or some other young children one day, I asked our captain/tour-guide what the name of this beautiful little, deserted, swamped, mosquitoes filled island was. He looked at me with his big beautiful blood-shot eyes and said, "Eez Rat Island."

Ah, the rat! One of the world's most romantic rodents.

We then set a course for the last stop on our magical voyage, but never quite made it as our tour guide told us that the other island was shit and then he jumped into the sea.