If you’re married to a human male or a human female, anniversaries are a time to celebrate. Or fear. One or the other, whatever floats your boat really.
Such as today’s human female, who can’t quite comprehend why her husband bought her a certain gift.
Hi? I'm writing this in floods of tears and hysterics (plus I'm pretty drunk on Lambrini). Last week was my second wedding aniversary with my husband Barry (or Bozzer as he wants the family to call him). Last year he showered me with gifts, such as a bottle of bubbly, a bucket of flowers [Editor: We think she means "bouquet" *smug grin*], a box of chocolates, and a trip to the seaside in Blackpool. This year? It's a four-litre tub of glyphosate weedkiller. I unwrapped it and sat there staring at it confused. Then Bozzer went, "What, babe? What's wrong?!" And I went, "Babe... it's weedkiller." And he went, "I know! Great, innit?" I stared at him funny and he went, "What? Babe, you don't like it?" And I went, "No, I don't bloody well like it! What the bloody hell do I want with some bloody weedkiller?! What are you trying to say to me?!" And he went, "Babe, it's romantic." And I went, "Bozzer, how is it 'romantic'?" And he went, "Well, the weeds in garden will all be dead. And that's dead more romantic than having weeds in the garden, eh?" And I went, "We don't have a garden, Bozzer!" And he went, "Yeah we do, it's that bit out back, you stupid bitch!" And I went, "That's a ten foot by ten foot slab of concrete!" And he went, "YEAH! WITH SOME WEEDS GROWING OUT OF THEM CRACKS, YOU DAFT COW!!" And I went, "DON'T YOU RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME YOU BASTARD!!!" And then the rest is kind of all a blur. I remember slapping him with my hands and then we had a blazing row ending with me kneeing him in the bollocks. To get my own back I started adding dollops of the weedkiller into his builder's brews and hot pot dinners. But when that made him start vomiting everywhere I reckon I should stop doing that. So I did. But one of his eyes has turned black now and he says he thinks that's because of immigrants and homosexuals "clogging up the air". But... what does that gift mean?! What? What does he take me for!? Weedkiller!? I'm so confused and angry and violent. Help! Cheers, Doreen
Hello, Doreen. We do agree weedkiller isn’t the best gift this “Bozzer” could have purchased for you. We’re more inclined to suggest:
- Chemical grade bleach.
- Sandwiches on white bread with the crusts removed.
- Simplistic cheese to avoid confusion (i.e. cheddar).
- A copy of the Daily Mail.
- A book about the history of rioting in England.
Regardless, it doesn’t mean the weedkiller he’s bought you can’t be put to good effect. Asides from murdering the weeds you mention, the plastic weedkiller tub can be used to:
- Prop open doors.
- Whack your husband around the head.
- Fend off immigrants.
- Fill up your bath for a relaxing soak.
Once your husband has stopped vomiting everywhere, politely remind him you expect a more thoughful gift come 2021.
And with a bit of luck, he’ll get you some paint stripper or something. Or anti-freeze. Or both and a trip to Barbados. Best of luck, Doreen.