If you want a man with size 10 feet, ask for one

Life Design Action: If you want a man with size 10 feet, ask for one.

Requires: A question, a smile and seriousness.

Does not require: Blackmail or bribery.

(We can waste time, energy and a lot of money skirting around something, trying to painstakingly get from A to B alone or hoping that what we want will appear in our lap somehow. Fact is that there is a very simple way to get what you want: ask for it.)

I Want A Man Please – Preferably One With Size 10 Feet

A long time ago Last Saturday, in a galaxy far, far away along a country road on the Isle of Wight, I found myself travelling to the EmpireNewport with Naughty N.

This time it was not wigs we were after, but some dreadfully sluttish shoes for Spouser and Ads. This was so they could dress up as convincing lady boys for my birthday Thai feast.

After a brief attempt to haggle with a haberdashery owner (why can’t we haggle in shops in the UK? I think it should be acceptable to haggle wherever you are) Naughty N led me into a charity shop.


Charity shops.

Normally me and charity shops do not gel.

I have nothing against them per se, I just find them uncomfortable somehow.

And I don’t like the smell.

And I don’t like rummaging on the “off chance” that “I might” find something worth buying … and then having to carry something home that smells like a charity shop …. in a crumpled up bag. I also find too much choice confusing … which is possibly why I also have an uncomfortable squirmy-shrivel relationship with H&M, TK Max and Sports Direct as well.

Anyway, to my pleasant surprise Naughty N led me into what can only be described as a very upmarket charity shop. What was once the rabbit warren known at Earl Mountbatten Hospice, had now become the John Lewis, the Liberties of London, of charity shops!

There was space.

There was lay out.

There was no smell.

There was even an upstairs.

For some time we schmoozed  around the shop, cooing and murmuring over a variety of size ten stilettos, then once we’d collected a great armful of these monstrosities, we proceeded to splurge them over the counter.

“Do you want to buy all of these?” asked the girl.

I glanced at Naughty N. I raised an eyebrow.

She gave me the nod.

“Well, yes, but you see, first what we really need is a man,” I explained carefully. “A nice man who would be prepared to try on these shoes for us? You must have one of them. He should preferably have size ten feet.”

At this point NN dived in and continued to explain the situation. “You see,” she said, “we don’t want to buy them in case they don’t fit our men. That would be a bit silly.”

“Yes, quite silly.”

I pressed my lips together and nodded seriously.

. At that moment a little old lady with an Earl Mountbatten badge popped up from behind a rack of tartan suitcases. “Micheal will do it!” she chirped. “He’ll most certainly try them on.”

And then she dashed off downstairs with the salivating enthusisiam of a man with the keys to a Ferrari 358 Italia.

Micheal was summoned.

Poor Micheal. I’m not sure how out of puberty he even was, which makes me feel like we took advantage of him very badly. Briefed on his modelling job,  he obligingly sat down, took off his old Converse and squeezed his feet into the pair of stilettos.


And did up the tricky little straps. So sweet of him.


By this time a cooing flock of Earl Mountbatten volunteers had gathered around and were jousting each other with their elbows.


“Oh, they look just lovely.”

“Don’t they just!”

“Come on Micheal, get up. You have to make sure you can walk in them!”

I’m not sure how obliging Micheal was now but he pretended very nicely.

Even when he fell sideways and in an attempt to defy gravity, grabbed the wall, hit the clock and the clock smashed on the ground …


None of the old ladies seemed to mind that he’d broken the wall clock.


And instead they supported him on countless catwalk trots around the room. Afterwards, myself and Naughty N were very pleased to see that they fitted beautifully, so we purchased the shoes and went on our way. Very satisfied customers.

So there you are, my darlings … just ask for what you want!

Below are some helpful tips in case you feel shy or are not used to asking for things.



When you ask for something with confidence and certainty people tend to respond positively. If you feel nervous about asking for something, focus on being relaxed and polite. The worse thing that can happen is that the answer will be “no” (eg. asking a Haberdashery man if you can haggle with him for fabric). As long as you can handle a little “no” then you have nothing to lose.


Know exactly what it is that you are asking for. If you are wishy-washy with your requests the chances are that you will come across as indecisive and weak and it will plant doubt in the mind of the other person. Asking for what you want is in the realm of Jedi mind-tricks and in these situations, clarity is key.


Whilst it is great to specify what you want, try to remain open minded about what is offered. In the event above, Micheal did not actually have size ten feet. He had size elevens. However, we were happy to be flexible and suggest he squeezed his feet into the size ten stilettos. If we had been rigid and demanded a man with exactly size ten feet, we probably wouldn’t have walked away with our purchases. Remember, compromise = success!


15 thoughts on “If you want a man with size 10 feet, ask for one

  1. I got stuck at you mentioning size 10 … one of our doctors at work said that the size of a man’s feet corresponds to the size of his penis … everybody looked immediatedly at his feet … 🙂

  2. Marvellous Michael. What a guy! I won’t buy a jug unless it pours properly. Once, in a very upmarket store, I asked for water to put in the jug so I could see how it poured. It poured beautifully so I bought the jug. And everyone was happy; me, the store and the jug. You do have to ask 🙂

    • Hello Gallivanta!! I love that you made them fill the jug. Pouring action is a vital thing for jugs. And teapots. In fact, a teapot that pours beautifully is up there on my lest of heavenly satisfactions. At the opposite end of that scale are those horrible metal tea pots that you get in hotels. Blaugh. xxx

      • Oh yes, I forgot about the teapots. I once spent some time in the same posh shop trying to decide if a teapot would pour properly. I didn’t ask for water that time. But I eventually figured out that the teapot was going to be a hopeless pourer.

      • Hmm, a difficult situation. How did you figure that the teapot wasn’t going to be a goody? In my experience, the mosre bulbous and rounded the teapot bottom, the better the spout. I’m not sure why – just my two best pourers had a very similar shape. xxx

      • Bulbous and rounded usually are good indications. Also it is the way the teapot balances in my hand when I make the pouring action. Hard to explain and I don’t buy a lot of teapots 🙂

      • Noooo, now you mention it, I’m not a regular teapot buyer either. One of my perfect pourers was inherited/borrowed from my mother’s kitchen. The second one had Alice In Wonderland designs and was irresistable (so I did buy that one but it was about 15 years ago). My ex husband did have a hotel hotel though, and due to this I experienced tens of thousands of metal teapots that were pretty useless all in all. x

      • My best pourer was inherited too; a Susie Cooper teapot which must be at least 50 years old, if not older. Oh, and here’s a fun piece of information. I was trying to think why the Isle of Wight intrigues me. Went in to the deep dark box of papers and rediscovered that my great great grandmother was born in the Isle of Wight and her parents were too. Yay!

      • I know very little. Her name was Amelia Ann Leigh and she was born in Cowes in 1827. Her parents were Elizabeth Joliph and James Leigh and I am only assuming they were born in the Isle of Wight. James Leigh was a bootmaker which seems very appropriate for your post on a size 10 shoe!

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