When your human male husband starts a black market “black pepper” business, you should be suspicious. As it may well just be man bloke stubble and he’s conning the local community, nation, and committing grim human rights breaches.
Truly, man is the harbinger of doom.
When one cannot simply ENJOY one’s pasta with normal black pepper, then it’s time for a revolution. That’s why we’re helping today’s damsel in distress.
When Your Husband Runs a Black Market Black Pepper “Stubble” Business
“Dear agony aunt,
My husband is a devious son of a bitch! I used to think he was a nice man. Obnoxious, sure, such as his habit of being casually racist, homophobic, and sexist. Yet I was willing to overlook these minor personality flaws because he’s really, really hot!
The problem is he’s now crossed the boundary of decency.
It started when he kept getting up at 3am for no real reason. I could hear him rummaging around outside in the garden shed. I peered out of him one moonlit night and saw he was carrying big sacks of stuff and putting them in his van. Then driving off. It was all so very, very mysterious.
A week later and he did it again! So I got onto my son’s moped and trailed my husband. Long story short, turns out he’s been collecting huge amounts of male shaving stubble (including his own stubble) and he’s set up a business called Noir Beard Blend and he’s…
Sorry, I got a bit emotional there. Excuse me a moment…
HE IS SELLING THE STUBBLE TO RESTAURANTS AS A CHEAPER ALTERNATIVE TO BLACK PEPPER.
That is Soylent Green levels of diabolical!
THAT IS JUST PLAIN WRONG.
I was too scared to confront my husband myself in case he pulled a baked beans bazooka on me (I hear they’re very popular amongst criminals these days). So I’m ashamed to say… I ran.
I ran into the streets.
I ran into the dead of night.
I ran until I came to a big hill in a rural area and I ran up to the top of it.
Once at the top I sprained my ankle. Because it started raining I was stuck up there and cold, so figured I’d better call for an emergency helicopter rescue. When they arrived to swoop me clear I screamed at my saviours, “DON’T EAT AT THE LOCAL ITALIAN RESTAURANTS! DON’T EAT AT THE LOCAL ITALIAN RESTAURANTS! DON’T EAT AT THE LOCAL ITALIAN RESTAURANTS!” They looked confused about that and I delivered the shocking hammer wailing blow, “THE BLACK PEPPER… IS MAN BLOKE BEARD STUBBLE! ARRRRGHHHH! ARGHH! ARGHHH!”
Anyway, they sedated me and I’m under watch after being sectioned. I’m emailing you during one of my allotted time out sessions.
Suggestions?
Yours with all the sanity in the world,
Julia
Hi there, Julia. So let’s round up a few core points here:
- Demented husband ✅
- Shaving stubble being sold as black pepper for a profit ✅
- Baked beans bazookas ✅
Whilst we initially thought that all sounded a little far-fetched, as there’s a cost of living crisis on at the moment we want in on this.
Once you’re no longer sectioned, can you please contact your husband and let him know we’ll take several pepper mills worth of “black pepper”? We have a few new apprentices starting in the office soon and we fail to see why we should fork out for genuine seasoning for those Gen Z snowflake wastrels.
As for your husband—he sounds like a business genius.
You shouldn’t be JEALOUS of his success, Julia, just because he had the GUMPTION to work harder than you. Man up! Start your own black market business.
