Veet for Men Hair Removal Gel Creme 200 ml - Amazon.co.uk

These are all GENUINE reviews posted on Amazon's website

DO NOT PUT ON KNOB AND BOLLOCKS

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 that 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.)

LOCATION LOCATION LOCATION

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 realised 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.

All in all an effective and reasonably priced product.

NOT FOR NOSE HAIR

Although I understood the part about 'intimate use' I could not find anything about this not being for nose or ear hair.

I get fed up with constantly cutting myself whilst trying to cut my ear and nose hair with a pair of Kitchen Scissors, so I decided that this product would work for me.

I rubbed it up into my nostrils and around the outside of my ears. Very soon the burn started and trust me it really makes your eyes water. Probably more that if it was on your knob or bollocks like the other reviewer did.

If your eyes do water, make sure the product is not on your hands when you go to wipe your eyes as this product also removes eyelashes and eyebrows and makes your eyes water even more. I look like I have been put on a sunbed for too long and people keep asking me why I am crying. 

Still, a good product which does what it says.

INCREASED SPORTS PERFORMANCE

As a highly competitive amateur athlete, I have long been aware of the benefits of a highly polished scrotum pole and hair-free saddlebags, 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 undercarriage 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.

SWEET BABY JESUS, DELIVER ME FROM THIS TORMENT

Possessing as I do a genital cluster that bears an uncanny resemblance (and indeed aroma) to Chewbacca's armpit, I decided to purchase this product. Upon applying the creme to my tassel and conkers, I was taken aback by a sudden and disturbing gasping noise, followed by a sound that I can only describe as the horrific howlings from Satan's own Hell Hound, Cerberus.

As I whirled around to view the source of the noise, I perchanced to glance in the bathroom mirror, and, seeing my own mouth stretched agape in a terrible rictus of agony, I deduced the sound was coming from me. My eyes widening with mounting horror, I surveyed the damage occurring to my sausage and beans with no small sense of panic.

My pubes were actually bubbling and fizzing, in much the same way they might if one of James Cameron's Aliens had just sprayed their acid blood upon them. There were no swear words strong enough to adequately describe the agony, and in my delirium, I began making them up. I don't recall exactly what I screamed, but I'm fairly sure the entirely new expletive "funting" was employed. 

With as much haste as I could muster, I hobbled into the shower and applied cooling water to the conflagration in my crotch, which only served to spread the napalm to my perineum. I am not a church-going man but as I felt the flaming horror trickle across that tender inch of no-man's land, I confess that I prayed aloud to Jesus and his host of angels that the advancing agony would not stray into my buttonhole.

However, my prayers went unheeded, and as I felt the liquid inferno sizzle it's way into my most private of eyes, I lost consciousness, but not before grabbing the shower curtain and collapsing, in a disturbing echo of that famous scene from Hitchcock's "Psycho". Although believe me, being hacked to death by Norman Bates in a dress would have been a walk in the park compared to the searing agony I endured that fateful day.

GOOD RESULTS AT FIRST INTERROGATION

Most prisoners confessed within five minutes of the first application. Can recommend. 

Yours, Ali Muhabarakah, Secret Police, Damascus 

"DANGER WILL ROBINSON, DANGER"

Well like 90% of the reviews on the page. I would say we have all suffered from making the terrible mistake of vandalizing ourselves in ways which we shouldn't. If you are keen player in the arts of "BDSM" or "Sadomasochism", be my guest, this product will certainly bring you pleasure. 

However if you are a run-of-the-mill bloke trying to remove some unwanted hair from some unwanted places, this product will make you cry. 

I obviously wanted to sport the longer look, which let not beat around the bush (no pun intended) makes any man feel better about themselves (well it does me anyways). I'm also a fairly hairy individual, so this product is certainly useful as it's near to impossible to shave my own back. 

However, when applied to the genital region, the first couple of minutes you stand there looking at it, trying to sniff the air to see if you can smell that horrible burning hair smell (which i couldn't). You then realise after a few more moments that your smile has changed into a very neutral position. I don't really read instructions in life. I treat them as if they were that EULA thing when you install software or start an Xbox game, and you just click next. 

Anyhow, all I can say is that I would not need a flame on a stick going through a dark tunnel or cave. I could simply wack my bollocks out. Yes you guessed it bright red and pretty painful. But I do look hung.

Anyhow would I do it again, maybe in a few months? My skins pretty resilient, so it's not too sensitive, but I guess if you are a ginger or generally have light fair sensitive skin you may find out the hard way and wake up one morning with an extremely high voice and notice you have no more testicles and being officially classed as a eunuch. 

NOT FOR YOUR CRACK

First off this is a pretty good product. My wife got a couple of tubes for me so I could do my chest and back (I swim lots so a smooth body is a must). This was all well and good and the product did the job as stated. 

The problem came when we decided to baldify my arse crack. Oh my god, bloody hell what a mistake. 

The first sensation was of a nice chilled feeling between my bottom cheeks, kind of like sitting down in wet grass. All well and good. Then I hit the shower, it was like a vindaloo had been poured between my arse cheeks, while I was getting a severe wedgie. 

To say it was agony is an understatement, I was howling. Even today (4 days after the event) I can't walk properly or sit on my bike. 

All I have to say is leave your sack and crack to the experts and don't smear this burning lube anywhere down below. Keep it to your chest, arms, back, and legs and all will be fine.

THE BEST RESULT YET

Well, curiosity finally got the better of me, so I purchased a few tubes of Veet for men. How excited I was sat waiting for the delivery man... Crouching on the floor next to my front door in wait for the post, I caught the discreetly packaged product before it hit the floor on passing through my letterbox. 

I was stripped bollock naked before I reached the landing in the stairwell, liberally smearing my treasured, but hairy, man-bits with a nice cold gloopy cream as I ascended the stairs - which was worth the money in itself, I settled down and waited for the wonder stuff to work its miracle and dissolve my Amazonian rain-forest!

3 hours 45 minutes later I decided to get up off the landing carpet, go shower and inspect the results... balanced on one leg in the shower holding a shaving mirror between my legs, and pushing my throbbing nads to one side with the toilet brush, I could see what I can only describe as a Gollum's head tortured and battered by a Taliban interrogation unit, peering up at me through a single screwed up puffy eye, looking pretty sorry for itself. 

On closer inspection, my two previously furry love-eggs had absconded deep into my body for protection leaving my somewhat forlorn-looking scrotum hanging there, like a pelican's over-filled neck pouch which had been flogged with a barbed wire paddle. 

Admittedly, I've been a tad tender for a few weeks, especially when cycling, but now the swelling and bruising has subsided my love missile is starting to look like Fatima Whitbread's throwing arm again. Shame that I now have to replace the stair carpet where it has melted through to the floorboards though.