Human males… there are few words you can muster in contempt of these vagabonds. It’s one think for human males to ignore drinks coasters etiquette.
But then you get those bastards who… PUT their feet up on the living room table! Just let that sink in for a moment. The nerve!
When confronted with a morally bankrupt individually such as this, it’s essential to know the steps to take. And that’s why agony aunt is here to help.
Putting One’s Feet Up in the Living Room
Dear Agony Aunt. I am Mildred. My husband, Mark, has been my husband for the last 40 years. And last night... I snapped... I'm ashamed to say it but I'D HAD ENOUGH! Had enough of the one habit that for 40 consecutive years made me want to take an axe to his head in an unbridled sense of unmarital bliss. The habit? Mark putting his bloody feet up on the living room table with his stinking feet in his reeking socks right there with a pint of beer so he can watch the television. "Mildred," I said to myself for 40 years, "He's a good man, our Mark, and I shall abstain from murdering him over such a trivial matter. You could do far worse! You could get a husband who leaves the toilet seat up!" I joked to myself. Needless to say, the living room is where we do our most living! Frankly, we'd all be dead without this room. As such, it seemed pertinent to me to raise this issue with Mark. "Mark?" Says I, Mildred. "What?!" Says Mark, my husband. "Can you please take your feet off the living room table, dear?" "No. Fuck off." "I will only ask you one more time, Mark." "Good, 'cos then you already know the answer, eh?" He looked all smug about that and sat there drinking his beer all blotchy red-faced with those spider veins over his bulging nose and then he shifted a bit in the seat and used his spare hand to scratch his backside. I calmly went out into the garden, to the shed, got the axe, went back into the living room, and tried to impale the aforementioned axe into Mark's skull. To note, I failed in this endeavour. And the axe is lodged in the top of the sofa where it missed Mark's skull by centimetres. After calling me an "INSANE BITCH!!!" and other such nasty sentiments, he immediately threatened to call the cops and serve divorce papers. To calm him down I suggested, instead, I just bake him a roast dinner to make up for my "minor episode". He agreed to that and we haven't mentioned the axe incident since. In fact, my husband continues putting his feet up and seems to have forgotten all about the murder attempt. The axe is still impaled into the sofa. He even uses the axes as a kind of headrest when he wants a snooze later in the evening. I'm a bit too scared to remove it now, it's like the sofa is holding together our marriage. Thoughts? Yours, Mildred
Hi there, Mildred! You were right to try and bludgeon your husband to death. That’s a really annoying habit he has and we’re sorry you’ve had to suffer for 40 long years.
Our advice on this one is simple—buy him a top-quality foot spa.
Have that thing positioned on the ground by the sofa, that way his feet will always be in the spa (rather than on the living room table). Double-whammy here, too, as it’ll stop his stupid big man feet from stinking.
Then, if he continues annoying you? Run an electric cable into the foot spa and fry the bastard, ahahahahahahahaa!!!
You don’t have to do that, of course, but hell a lot of our advice involves agony and torture (hence our literal interpretation of the “agony aunt” role). And you seem up for homicide anyway, so keep it in mind if he doesn’t up his husbanding game.
Foot spa? Hmm, perhaps, but fill it with some of that industrial bleach Mr. Wapojif uses.
Not only will that neutralize the stench of his f.o. , but dissolve his feet off, altogether.
Problem solved. Maybe I can get a job writing columns for Ms. Agony?
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YES! The bleach option. You can tell you’re a loyal follower of PM. You preach the bleach! Keep at it.