34,263 of 34,807 people found the following review helpful
on 24 January 2012
Being a loose cannon who does not play by the rules the first thing I did was ignore the warning and smear this all over my knob and bollocks. The bollocks I knew and loved are gone now. In their place is a maroon coloured bag of agony which sends stabs of pain up my body every time it grazes against my thigh or an article of clothing. I am suffering so that you don't have to. Heed my lesson. DO NOT PUT ON KNOB AND BOLLOCKS.
(I am giving this product a 5 because despite the fact that I think my bollocks might fall off, they are now completely hairless.)
2,621 of 2,775 people found the following review helpful
on 30 July 2012
After having been told my danglies looked like an elderly rastafarian I decided to take the plunge and buy some of this as previous shaving attempts had only been mildly successful and I nearly put my back out trying to reach the more difficult bits.
Being a bit of a romantic I thought I would do the deed on the missus's birthday as a bit of a treat.I ordered it well in advance and working in the North sea I considered myself a bit above some of the characters writing the previous reviews and wrote them off as soft office types...oh my fellow sufferers how wrong I was.
I waited until the other half was tucked up in bed and after giving some vague hints about a special surprise I went down to the bathroom. Initially all went well and I applied the gel and stood waiting for something to happen. I didn't have long to wait.
At first there was a gentle warmth which in a matter of seconds was replaced by an intense burning and a feeling I can only describe as like being given a barbed wire wedgie by two people intent on hitting the ceiling with my head.
Religion hadn't featured much in my life until that night but I suddenly became willing to convert to any religion to stop the violent burning around the turd tunnel and what seemed like the destruction of the meat and two veg.
Struggling to not bite through my bottom lip I tried to wash the gel of in the sink and only succeeded in blocking the plughole with a mat of hair.Through the haze of tears I struggled out of the bathroom across the hall into the kitchen by this time walking was not really possible and I crawled the final yard to the fridge in the hope of some form of cold relief.
I yanked the freezer drawer out and found a tub of ice cream, tore the lid of and positioned it under me. The relief was fantastic but only temporary as it melted fairly quickly and the fiery stabbing soon returned.
Due to the shape of the ice cream tub I hadn't managed to give the starfish any treatment and I groped around in the draw for something else as I was sure my vision was going to fail fairly soon. I grabbed a bag of what I later found out was frozen sprouts and tore it open trying to be quiet as I did so. I took a handful of them and tried in vain to clench some between the cheeks of my arse.
This was not doing the trick as some of the gel had found it's way up the chutney channel and it felt like the space shuttle was running it's engines behind me.This was probably and hopefully the only time in my life I was going to wish there was a gay snowman in the kitchen which should give you some idea of the depths I was willing to sink to in order to ease the pain.
The only solution my pain crazed mind could come up with was to gently ease one of the sprouts where no veg had gone before.
Unfortunately, alerted by the strange grunts coming from the kitchen the other half chose that moment to come and investigate and was greeted by the sight of me, arse in the air, strawberry ice cream dripping from my bell end pushing a sprout up my arse while muttering..." Ooooh that feels good "
Understandingly this was a shock to her and she let out a scream and as I hadn't heard her come in it caused an involuntary spasm of shock in myself which resulted in the sprout being ejected at quite some speed in her direction.
I can understand that having a sprout farted against your leg at 11 at night in the kitchen probably wasn't the special surprise she was expecting and having to explain to the kids the next day what the strange hollow in the ice cream was didn't improve my status...
So to sum it up Veet removes hair, dignity and self respect....... :-
6,280 of 7,068 people found the following review helpful
on 17 April 2012
I like the clean shaven look down in my gentleman's log cabin, so for the past few years I've used a shaver. However the hair keeps growing back which means every 6 months I have to spend 20 minutes trimming again. As I'm sure you've realise this is valuable time I cannot waste. So I decided to get to the root of the problem and purchased this product.
Probably the first thing you will notice after using this product is the pain. Although as a man I lack the required experience, I'm going to estimate that using this product is at least eleven times more painful than childbirth.
Imagine sticking a rusty razor blade into your favourite eye, before tying your hands behind your back. Then imagine that you use the entrenched razor blade to slice open a raw onion. All the while being butt naked. This product is slightly more painful than that.
However if we ignore the blinding, crippling and debilitating pain I should point out that this product is remarkably effective. Before, all manner of organisms great and small lived down there, now nothing can grow; not even on a cellular level. Sadly this includes my genitalia; I've spent the last four hours staring fixedly at Carol Vorderman's arse, all to no avail. My tinkywinkleton hasn't even so much as perked up, so if my review seems a bit harsh, it's only because I wanted children.
Pros: A small expense, certainly didn't burn a hole in my pocket.
Cons: Did burn a hole in my scrotum
All in all an effective and reasonably priced product - 3 Stars.
2,806 of 3,183 people found the following review helpful
on 25 April 2012
Excellent product. Most prisoners confessed within five minutes of the first application. Can recommend.
Secret Police, Damascus
447 of 507 people found the following review helpful
on 27 April 2012
This was the most fantastic product ever invented due to the hilarity it has produced for all us women!! Most definitely THE funniest reviews EVER!!!!!
798 of 907 people found the following review helpful
on 15 April 2012
Makes my farts sound louder. The hair must have acted as a interlocking silencer.. I give this the big thumbs up. 5/5
3,315 of 3,784 people found the following review helpful
on 24 April 2012
As a highly competitive amateur athlete, I have long been aware of the benefits of a highly polished scrotum pole and hair-free saddle-bags, especially when going for the `longer look' as displayed by Linford in his famous lunchbox.
Previously I had used the old-school method of a cutthroat razor, but as you can imagine, this was a tricky and delicate operation, and to make matters worse, it was difficult to get into a comfortable position in the chair at my local Barbers. Anyway, I am quite hairy down there and my snippet valve looks like Brian May's plughole so eventually the Barber said he could no longer perform the task for me. He also said that looking up my whizzer every Saturday at 11:30 put him off his lunch, as he usually has toad-in-the-hole followed by chocolate-coated donuts as a Saturday treat.
He did not want to leave me in the lurch and said that he had read some excellent reviews on Amazon about Veet for men and suggested I give it try.
Like many other reviewers, I made the mistake of not reading the bumph properly; I used the whole tube and completely coated my cock eggs, barse and nipsy with the stuff. Anyway, I lost track of time, and it was the foul stench of dissolving clinkers and melting hair that brought me to my senses. As I looked at my watch through the putrid fog that had formed around me, I could see that it had been applied for exactly 5 minutes 59 seconds. This presented me with a problem, as when the searing pain began, I was outside my flat, sat in the communal gardens, in a deck chair precisely 100 meters and 3 flights of stairs away from my bathroom. It was as if I had lowered my under-carriage through a volcano and into Hades, whereupon Beelzebub, annoyed by the uninvited intrusion, jabbed me in the rectum with his fork.
I took off from the deckchair like Usain Bolt out of the TV adverts. Within 12 seconds, the bathroom was filled with steamy fetid barse broth, and I had the clock weights, biffin's-bridge and Sherriff's badge under ice-cold running water at the tap end of the bath. This did not please the missus, as she was relaxing in there at the time surrounded by floating petals and candles, although she did say that the sight of my ringpiece flashing like a brake light was impressive, and she was pleased to see that my arse barnacles had all but disappeared.
When I looked at my watch again, I realised how quickly I had made it up the stairs and the idea dawned on me that I had discovered a 100% legal sports performance enhancer. Now when I compete in a competition I dab a small amount around my Samantha Janus and taint exactly 6 minutes before the race is due to start. If I am doing the hurdles, I change the ratio and put more on my barse to make me jump higher. This proved to be particularly effective a couple of weeks ago, as after crossing the hurdles finish line, I accidentally won the high jump and steeple chase too, looking for the water jump to wash the stuff off.
Now I can hear you all thinking that none of this is particularly extraordinary, especially given the reviews that you have already read. However, when I tell you that I am 45 years old, 5' 4" tall and weigh 15 stone, and I used to do the shot-put that should put things into context. As this is an Olympic year I think Tagnutt and Mandeville or whatever their names are, should be redesigned with hairless nether-regions and the British squad should use my technique and be sponsored by Veet, although I don't recommend it for the beach volley ball team.
5 Stars from me.
72 of 82 people found the following review helpful
on 17 December 2013
I slapped the cream onto my bollow's and 100%-all-beef-thermometer in an attempt to eliminate abundant follicle activity in the region. What followed can only be described as "touching the sun bollocks first" or "blow-torch drying your genitals after a bath of tacks and hydrochloric acid"
My first reaction was, naturally, to douse my beef bayonet and meatballs with vinegar in an effort to neutralise the chemical reaction that was happening on my test tube. Unfortunately the tears of rage in my eyes obscured my vision, and I grabbed turpentine.
my penis is now Hair AND Paint Free, and also a concentrated centre of agony
a pandora's box of every negative intangible emotion in the universe
The pain that I endure everyday seeps through my very being, people get upset around me at parties without knowing why, children cry near me, nobody can touch me without getting a shooting pain in their genitals and a heaviness in their heart. I can't conceive of this pain leaving, and am sure that when I eventually veet my whole body and burn like a buddhist monk sat outside the veet headquarters, the transparent ghost of my maroon Co** and ball-sack will still float around, a testament to mans inhumanity to man.
240 of 274 people found the following review helpful
on 28 April 2012
Last week my wife disappeared into the bathroom with a tube of Veet and emerged some hours later with a spoozle like an immaculately manicured camels hoof. Somewhat overwhelmed by the astounding results she achieved, I decided it was time to polish the family jewellery. I had many years of pube neglect under my belt and was aware that I faced a challenge. I conducted a site survey and decided to perform a preliminary tidy up using a chain saw and a snooker triangle before applying the Veet. Perhaps the fact that the product had the same colour and consistency as horse raddish should have served as a warning, however with complete disregard for my penile well being, I adopted a slap dash attitude and within a few minutes my dong looked like a bald bloke stuck in a snow drift. The initial tingling sensation wasn't at all unpleasant and whilst waiting for the time to pass I thumbed through the local paper. I came round some hours later , convinced I had died and gone straight to Hades. Where once surely there was a knob and bollocks there is now a smouldering mound of agony.
Hats off to the guys at Veet who thoughtfully include a handy spatular which proved invaluable for scraping what was left of my clock weights from off the bathroom floor.
Whilst I would recommend this product to anyone who wishes to make their genitalia look like an obscene Mr. Man, I am giving the product only 4 stars as I feel the instructions should be in larger font so that they can be read whilst crying.
505 of 577 people found the following review helpful
on 9 June 2012
I live in the countryside and watching the lambs gambol in the fields I pondered that they would need shearing soon and from there turned my thoughts to doing a little thinning of my own undergrowth. On a trip into town I saw a tube of Veet and the product description seemed ideal for my purposes. I didn't read the instructions because I'm a man.
One night, when the wife and kids were in bed, I got out the tube and applied the gel liberally to my crotch. For the first few moments I felt nothing but then after about 5.9 seconds I had a strange sense of deja-vu. You see when I was a teenager one of my younger brothers mates shot me in the head with a bow and arrow. He didn't mean to but we beat him up for it anyway. While the arrow was stuck in my head I could feel some pain but the shock kept that down. It was the thought that I'm going to have to pull this baby out which is going to magnify the pain massively that stuck with me.
As the gel started to sizzle and wisps of smoke started rising I knew that the pain I was feeling now would be as nothing compared to what was coming. It wasn't. Trying to find the words to describe it is difficult but imagine, if you can, having your scrotum industrially sandblasted from a distance of about a foot with broken glass mixed with acid and salt.
I ran outside into the cool night squealing like a stuck pig to hose down my crotch. I had no thoughts at this time of what the neighbours would think of this unholy banshee, but afterwards I heard in the nearby villages they had laughingly put it down to a family of foxes being caught in a thresher. At some point the water butt was drained and my screams went up a further few octaves into the realms beyond human hearing. Which was good for sparing my embarrassment with the neighbours, but was less good for the bats in my loft for whom the intensity of my scream proved terminal.
I wolfed down some pethidine and strong codeine tablets and was able to sleep for a few fitful hours. I dreamed there was a giant troll repeatedly trying to drop-kick my scrotum to Poland, before awaking to witness the damage done. My eyes were running with the pain, my scrotum looked like something that would be served as an hors d'oeuvre to Sauron, and my sense of smell had gone.
I later found out that the acrid fumes from my burning crotch were so pungent they cauterised my nostrils.
So overall 5 out of 5. It clearly does remove hair, and flesh, or at least that's what they say has happened when the dressings are changed.
I didn't expect to have to wear an adult nappy because of the ongoing genital weeping, and I am "off-games" for at least the rest of the year and possibly the whole of my adult life, but there you go.
Potential buyers might consider self-castration as a cheaper and less invasive alternative.