Whenever there’s a heatwave in the UK, the British human male must ask himself this question: “Just how far am I willing to go to humiliate myself?”
Whether it’s parading around Tesco with his top off and in flipflops, or deciding a heatwave strategy is underpants only, the human females of the world can only watch on… and wonder.
When a Man and His Underpants Tackle a Heatwave
Dear agony aunt,
There’s the first heatwave of the year in England. My husband Terry (54) has decided his heatwave strategy for the year is to glisten himself up in suntan lotion, then parade around in only his underwear. He goes everything like that: to the shops, to work, to the cinema, to the restaurants etc. We’ve been banned from many places…
Terry doesn’t see the problem with his underpants strategy. Everyone else is repulsed by it.
Now, I love my husband of 20 years but this is a step too far. He’s a large man and watching him wobbling around in the sun, glistening, drenched in sweat, his underpants clinging on for dear life to protect his modesty, and it makes me think he’s unfit for society and should be sectioned. Or is that a step too far?
Anyway, I proposed the idea to him last night like this:
“Husband, you’re making a fool of yourself with this underpants in a heatwave dress sense. Look at you. You’re covered in blisters from sunburn and you have a grimace of agony on your blotched face. This is no good, I think you should have yourself committed. It’s for your own good.”
Well, he didn’t react very well to that. He huffed and puffed and all that huffing and puffing split some of his sunburn blisters and they turned into howls of agony. While he lay on the floor wailing, that’s when I took the chance and got the medical people out and try and get him sectioned. I explained to them he’s clinically insane as he was wandering around in underpants during a heatwave. Well… and get this… the male physicians got really offended about this because THEY WALK AROUND IN UNDERPANTS IN A HEATWAVE AS WELL.
It’s just something older men do, apparently…
They refused to have Terry sectioned. Instead, they gave him a glass of lemonade and an ice lolly and smeared Sudocrem all over him for the sunburn. They said he’ll be “right as rain” in a few days, I just have to keep feeding him ice lollies, chilled lemonade, and smearing Sudocrem all over him.
Needless to say, Terry isn’t talking to me now. He thinks I’m “evil” and “demon spawn”.
How do I save my marriage? Do I even want to save my marriage?
Yours,
Vera
Vera… you’ve committed a very grave mistake in challenging your husband on this matter. It is every man’s right to “parade” (as you so obnoxiously put it) around in his undies during a heatwave. What sort of deranged wife wouldn’t let a man breathe in such a way?
Your husband is right to not want to talk to you.
You can tell how angry we are as we had to use “to” some THREE times in that last sentence! Who do you think you are!? Honestly. We’re sitting here, taking our time to respond to you, during a heatwave, WHILST WEARING OUR FAVOURITE UNDERPANTS! What, exactly, is wrong with that?! Hmmm!?
You’re permanently banned from requesting agony aunt feedback for the rest of time. Good day, madam!
