Insufferable Brit Lance Whitfield has reportedly been having frequent sex with women since arriving in America for business three years ago, despite him being an undeniable shitbag and all-around horrible person.
“I just don’t get it—that guy comes in here every single morning with a new girl, and he never tips, and he always cuts the line,” says Konditori barista Jeff Marnes, who is not British. “One time I saw him put his foot up on someone’s baby stroller to tie his shoelace. Just the worst guy, but always, always getting laid.”
It’s unclear if the women Whitfield is sleeping with are unaware of his horrifying personality, or if the accent is exciting enough that he could literally kill someone and still get laid.
“Oh, yeah, he’s not a very good guy, like, at all,” admits current paramour Anna Marcus, “and he’s not particularly good-looking either. But, like…his voice is soothing, you know?”
We did not know. She was unable to explain further.
Whitfield, whose parents’ social ties enabled him to attended the prestigious Bedford School and later the London School of Economics despite his unremarkably average intellect, is as surprised as anyone about this recent development. “Before I came across the pond, I’d have been lucky to pull one, maybe two ladies a year. But then I got stateside and it’s all fannies and asses for this old chap,” said Whitfield, pointing at himself with two thumbs. “Honestly I don’t even use words like that back home, but the more British I talk, the more birds I shag, baby!”
Even Whitfield’s own mother, Jean Whitfield, admits he’s nothing special. “Back in our hometown of Henley on Thames he’s just a poor sod with a bad attitude and a slightly unpleasant face who couldn’t quite cut it on the crew team,” Mrs. Whitfield said, “but apparently girls in America still haven’t grown out of their Prince William fantasies, despite Prince William looking like an anemic undertaker.”
Mrs. Whitfield added that Lance, who missed his own father’s funeral for box seats at a Manchester United game, is a “disappointment and a dolt” and that she “prays for the poor girl who wakes up in bed with him every morning.”
“He’s literally the best” says Gina Garita, Whitfield’s regular Thursday-night hookup. “He thinks oral is gross and keeps trying to not use a condom, but I love how he says ‘chips’ when he means ‘fries.’”
So far, Whitfield’s all-around shittiness hasn’t phased the dozens of women who throw themselves at him on a weekly basis, although he does acknowledge that dating apps such as Tinder are less helpful than face-to-face interactions.
“Oh, I would have 100% swiped left on that douche-nozzle if I hadn’t seen the little British flag emoji,” says recent partner Michelle Portney. “And even though he consistently pees on the toilet seat and genuinely believes several alien-related conspiracy theories, the accent is pretty great.”
It should be disclosed that this reporter did, in fact, sleep with Whitfield while reporting this story, and that he did not have a bed frame or even sheets.
