No matter how good looking your man bloke of preference, what if you awake each morn to breath like an excrement encrusted clove of raw garlic? Well, divorce is on the cards.
Today’s human female has such an issue. So, how does one go about putting it politely to get a lobotomy for his breath? Here’s our guide.
How To Improve Bad Breath
Dear Agony Aunt, my husband (Harry) is the man of my dreams. He's rich, handsome, successful, and a raging sociopath. Ensuring that he can bully and belittle his way to the very top through conniving, lying, and manipulating those more deserving than him! What a man he is. He earns £70,000 p/a! And we drive around in a Ferrari. I can tell all my friends are dead jealous!! And we have a lovely big house in California. However, there's a deep, dark secret I have to hide from everyone. And that's how his breath stinks like shit. We wake up in the morning and he stares into my eyes and says, "Hello darling, you look a bit scruffy this morning. Why don't you go and tart up for me so you near my exceptional high standards of perfection?" And I, fighting back the natural desire to retch and vomit, say, "Okay, dreamboat, I'll just go and make myself beautiful for you." And he lies back in bed, lets one rip, and belches real loud. And I rush off the bathroom to breath in fresh air, desperately fighting off the urge to gag and pass out. I'm not exaggerating!! He knows about it, too, it's one of his business tactics. He eats lots of raw garlic, onions, canned tuna, and black granule coffee. He thinks it makes people agree with him just to get him away from them as soon as possible. And he attributes his bad breath and borderline psychotic personality to his success. We're minted! We have THREE cars! Sure, everyone goddamn hates us because we're such colossal wankers, but it was worth screwing over everyone in the name of success! But what about me!? I had dreams! I wanted to open up a cake shop for successful people! And it wasn't about spending every morning, noon, and night panic-stricken about breath mightier equivalent to the shockwave of an atom bomb. Help! I've mailed you a plastic container full of his man breath, which I captured whilst he slept! Please provide your learned feedback. Yours, Maureen
Hi, Maureen. Thank you for the supplied container. The entire Professional Moron office gathered around it for the grand opening. This is what happened:
- The new apprentice immediately vomited and passed out. He’s still in a coma.
- The fire alarm began wailing.
- Our esteemed editor, Mr. Wapojif, began roaring furiously and attempted a daring escape through a broken old air conditioning unit.
- The other employees, in a blind panic, called the emergency services and demanded an air rescue.
- We all fled to the roof of the property (dragging the apprentice behind us) and waited for the helicopter to arrive.
- The stench caused the asbestos cladding in the office walls to melt, which then pooled in the foundations.
- The man breath smell seeped from the premises and was carried by a strong wind across Manchester city centre.
- Panicking citizens began passing out on the spot. Manchester City Council declared a national emergency, with the army deployed in a state of martial law.
Divorce him. The man is a monster! Anyone capable of that is not worthy of your hand in wedlock.
We suggest you flee the country and move to Barbados. You should be safe there. Maybe. May God have mercy on your soul! Anyway, all the best, Maureen. Cheers!