Sexy urbanites popping up on country folk's Tinder to tantalise them

ATTRACTIVE city dwellers are heading to the country for the weekend to show rural Tinder users what they are missing.

Backwater bumpkins are being treated to the seductive sight of dating profiles that belong to sexy singletons who hail from glittering metropolises like Cardiff and Leeds as they pass through on a train.

Cabbage farming hick Tom Booker said: “These beauties are stunning yet ephemeral, like shooting stars. It would be foolish to think they would look twice at a primitive rube such as myself, but a man can dream.

“Browsing their profiles was like looking at some advanced alien civilisation. They don’t look even slightly related to me and there’s not a single toothless smile among them. I can scarcely believe they’re real.”

Milkmaid Lauren Hewitt said: “I don’t know anything about these cinema dates of which they seem so fond, but they sure do sound exciting. Maybe if I hike up my dirndl I’ll get asked out on one.

“I’m yet to match with anybody though. It’s as if they’re not attracted to my stiff black and white daguerreotypes or the dowry of four cows and two goats I offer in my bio.”

Wayne Hayes from London said: “This is like safari for us. Check out the webbed feet on her.”

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Londoner's spare room is a pied-à-terre in the capital for every prick she knows

A WOMAN living in London is having to put up with all her friends and family using her spare room as their own apartment whenever they visit the city.

Clapham resident Charlotte Phelps is paying upwards of two grand a month to rent a flat that is already cramped enough without people dropping in every weekend to use it as a free hotel.

She said: “They’re usually outraged when they learn how much I’m forking out for this shoebox, yet mysteriously stop complaining every time they feel like popping over to watch Jersey Boys.

“I could tolerate it if they were well-behaved, but once those country mice get within Zone 3 they act like they’re on a Club 18-30 holiday. I don’t want to have to host my teenage cousin and some rugby-shirted dickhead she met in Sloane Square. The walls aren’t thick enough.

“Then there are all the creepy guys from back home who are only using my sofa bed as an excuse to get into my flat. I have to fob them off with lame excuses like ‘the landlord won’t allow it’ and ‘London now charges visitors a £100-a-night sleepover tax.'”

University friend Kelly Howard said: “I only stay with Charlotte to distract her from the crushing loneliness of urban life. Plus it’s handy to have a hub for doing cultural activities like visiting M&M’s World.”