When you think of a posh penthouse on 318 King St., the first thing that comes to mind is a young woman who’s as clumsy as all getout and waits hand-and-foot on three men, no?

Clearly, you don’t live in the decadent world of condos that come with balconies carpeted in golf friendly strips of green astro-turf, and generous closets containing an endless wardrobe of tight clothes. Nor are you absolutely clueless to the workings of canned fruits and vegetables. Or beer.

For $2,150,000, you can own this “southwest-facing penthouse,” which, according to the ad online, is “simply put, an entertainer’s dream.”

Let’s talk about that entertainer’s dream!

The ad begins with three men who walk up to the condo, which has a spectacular view of the city’s skyline.

After meeting up with the lady of the house, they are served beer by said lady.

Point to note about the lady and the beer: she cannot open the can she’s handling, spills the beer on herself, then slithers out of her dress and into another.

Understandable; beer cans can be hard to open.

She then goes on to make tomato soup. She cuts. She chops. She opens a can of tomatoes — so far so good — puts everything in a shiny blender and proceeds to turn the blender on without covering the lid. And ends up having a moment that seems cut from The Exorcist, in which a torrent of scarlet tomato juice cascades from her mouth. Yuck!

She changes her clothes again . . . to the confusion of the visitors. (You know there’s something wrong when even the guests seem confused by the constant changing of clothes.)

It’s now time for dinner. This time it’s not something out of a can that she spills; it’s a glass of a whitish liquid she’s trying to drink out of a wine glass.

Don’t ask!

So, obviously, she changes her clothes.

Again.

Entertaining?

The ad is produced by Karyn Filiatrault, a “TV-producer turned realtor with a knack for using television and realness to more effectively market Toronto homes.”

Filiatrault did not respond to requests for comment on this story.

By now, viewers may be excused for being thoroughly confused as to what the ad is for: the condo; the city, itself; the closets that can hold many, many, many clothes; a need for lessons in the simple tasks of basic living . . . .

Your guess is as good as ours.