When you’re married, you have to decide what to eat every day. Otherwise you wouldn’t have such a problem—single people dine off their own filth.

But then the problem for married folk is… what do you eat day in, day out? We’re here to help today’s human female with such a quandary.

Dinner Diatribes

Heya. Right, straight to the point. Me and hubby get on great most of the time. But for years there’s been this, like, escalating problem about what to have for dinner.

It started off innocent enough. Even flirtatious. “Hubby?” I’d say. “Yes, treacle?” he’d croon. “What should we have for din-dins? I fancy a fresh salad with caviar and steamed salmon, with some rye bread and houmous.”

And he’d laugh and say, “Darling, you know I think I’d like spaghetti hoops on toast. It’s delish!” And I’d laugh and say, “But darling, we had that last night. Variety is the spice of life!”

Eventually we’d come to a compromise of, say, salmon on white bread with spaghetti hoops and caviar. Which was disgusting, but at least it held our marriage together.

Anyway, that sort of stuff went on for years. But gradually deteriorated towards more caustic situations.

These days the exchange each evening is more along the lines of me going, “I’m hungry, let’s eat.” And he’ll go, “Okay, spaghetti hoops on toa…” And I cut in, “Not again. NOT… AGAIN! You’re 45 years old, Gerald, you’re not a child!” And he’ll go, “Bitch! It’s been THREE DAYS since we last had it! You know it’s my favourite meal! WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO TO ME!?”

And then I go, “For the love of God, Gerald, I worked it out last night. So far this year 175 of our evening meals have been spaghetti hoops on toast. This is absurd!” Then he adopts my high-pitched woman’s voice and pulls a funny face and goes, “Ohhhhh, I like steamed salmon and rye bread and throw up when I put spaghetti hoops on it because I’m such a snob!”

I lost my shit at that. I screamed at him, “GERALD! WE MADE A PACT NEVER TO DISCUSS THAT AGAIN!” And then he went bright red because he’d obviously forgotten about that.

Anyway, that was three days ago and we’ve not exchanged a word since.

My marriage is on the rocks, with a twist of lemon and dash of spaghetti hoops. How do I save us from divorce? Regards, Jennifer

Hi there, Jennifer. We receive a surprising amount of failing relationships due to food, especially spaghetti hoops. What is this hoopbinger of doom?

Fear not, for if your “hubby” (you sad bastard) prefers tinned produce then perhaps switch entirely to a tinned food diet?

Tinned salmon, tinned rye bread, tinned houmous, tinned hoops in tins. You could start a business venture, the Tinned Café and serve your fussy git eaters to eat nothing but tinned foodstuffs.

Otherwise, if this isn’t a suitable outcome for you, you may wish to resort to either assaulting your husband with a tin of spaghetti hoops.

Or you can respect the patriarchy and succumb to the slippery slope of pasta hoops in sauce with a tomato-based sauce. Oh, and there’s also this possibility.

Tinned Husband

To teach your “hubby” a lesson, stick the stupid oaf in a giant tin. Let him stay inside it for a solid week, or something.

Occasionally remove the lid and tip in some rye bread, steamed salmon, and houmous whilst cackling insanely.

All of this should give him PTSD to ensure he obeys your every meal command in future.

Either all of this or just divorce him. Or punch him in the face. Whatever you fancy really, it’s just spaghetti hoops FFS.