There reaches a point in many human males’, respective, existences where they succumb to things they probably should not succumb to. That list can include cheap beer, sandwiches with white bread, and laziness.

Today’s human female is married to a human male whom is addicted to garlic bread. It is all he eats and, as a consequence, she feels her husband may be a bit of a loser. Is she right? Or just a bog standard feminist lunatic? Let us found out!

When a Man Loves Garlic Bread a Little Bit Too Much

Dear agony aunt,

My name is Becky but please call me Rebecca. I am 51 years old and my husband, Joseph, is also 51 years old and also addicted to garlic bread. This addiction began at age 50 when he, randomly, decided to get some of the stuff from a fast food restaurant when returning home from work.

“BECKY!” He shouted to me upon coming through the front door.

“CALL ME REBBECCA, YOU KNOW IT’S REBECCA!” I roared back at him.

Anyway, he came in with this foul-smelling, putrid looking pulsating mass of a thing in a box. That was the garlic bread. It looked like it would give me a heart attack JUST by LOOKING at it, so I rejected his “generosity” and insisted he flush it down the toilet.

Joseph is a good man and, lo, he did flush it down the toilet.

It jammed in the toilet and we had to pay £200 to get a plumber to retrieve the, aforementioned, garlic bread, but it was worth it to keep the ghastly thing out of my household! Worth every penny.

That is, of course, until Joseph realised he could get around my hatred for garlic bread by ordering on his way home and eating the food in his car. But I could smell it on him when he came in through the front door.

“Good evening, darling!” He would say.

“Don’t call me ‘darling’, it’s Rebecca you oaf of a man!” I shrieked at him.

Then I immediately confronted him about the garlic bread. He tried to deny it, so I SMACKED HIM across the face with my right palm. Shocked, he left the property immediately. He didn’t return for hours. I got into our second car (mine, a very impressive Mercedes), and went driving around town to find him. After 20 minutes there was no luck, but then I realised I knew I knew I knew… he’d be at that blasted pizza fast food establishment. I drove there and, sure enough, he’s sitting inside Hot Pizza 2Night and positively WOLFING down garlic bread.

After this incident, to save the sanctity of our marriage, I allowed him to bring ONE box of the disgusting stuff home per week. ONCE. And for the last 12 months this rule has worked with much success (I, generally, leave the property for several hours to allow the smell to dissipate and Joseph showers for several hours, washes his clothes, and gargles a bottle of mouthwash).

Well, this was fine until recently I discovered the LYING RAT BASTARD has been CHEATING on my rules and stopping at many fast food establishments around town, as and when he pleases, consuming as much garlic bread as he so desires.

I was so disgusted I issued immediate divorce papers. When he returned them a day later, unsigned, I could SMELL the garlic bread all over them… this means war.

How do I make this heinous swine suffer?

Yours sincerely,

Rebecca

Hi there, Becky! To ensure the eternal suffering of your husband, you can purchase the  combination of Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift’s, respective, new albums and play them at full volume all day, every day, for the foreseeable future.

This hellish noise will be too much for the man, likely cause him a brain haemorrhage, and all will be well again. You’re welcome.