Dear Aunty. I’ve had the same outfit on two days in a row in work and they’ve started to call me Two Day Trouser Tony! What am I to do? I don’t want to change my way of life.
Well Tony, the best thing you can do is quit your job but in this economy you might as well pick out a sleeping bag and a doorway. Or you can do what I do and wear the slacks inside out. I’ll break it down. Day 1 normal, Day 2 inside out, Day 3 normal but backwards, Day 4 inside out and backwards, Day 5 back to normal. With this method you can get the most out of your clothes and for all intensive purposes people will think you’re wearing five pairs of britches. You’re welcome Tony.
Dear Aunty. My wife never washes the dishes. Everyday there’s a stack the height of liberty hall of dirty plates and crockery beside the sink. She’ll not even say a word she’ll just yawn after meals and sit in front of the tv with a packet of fig-rolls. How do I tell her that I’m sleeping with another woman?
If I’ve said this once I’ve said it a thousand time: Domestic Bliss is as fleeting as Mist. So many people go into a marriage thinking that it’ll be all the fun of the fair when in reality it’s seething resentment and passive aggression. Try spicing up the boring job of doing the dishes by donning the marigolds and nothing else. She’ll either join in or have a laugh at the sight of you. Patching the gaping crack in the relationship for a moment at least.
And don’t tell her about your hush hush smush. In my experience people hate hearing about stuff like that.
Dear Aunty. I can’t stop myself from criticizing my children. I know I’m only doing it from a place of love but I can get really nasty with them. I had the five year old crying for hours after I called him a scumbag that no one loves. It was hurtful, I know, but it’s for the best, right?
The problem I’ve always had with children is that by the time you figure them out they’re already grown and set in their ways. It’s like when you see wet cement and wanna write something funny in it so you have a think and then by the time you get the idea the cement has set. That’s what it’s like with raising children. But the good news is that once you get them to 18 they’re out the door and are no longer your problem. The Bouncers, Guards and Judges will have to deal with them then.
Dear Aunty. I’ve recently found my calling, I want to be an Army Man, but when I’ve shared this with my family they were anything but supportive. My mother in particular was very against the idea. I think sometimes she’d rather I was just a common gardener. But I don’t wanna get muck on my hands and flirt with a bored housewife. I wanna get blood on my hands and flirt with distraught widows of war. How am I to convince my family to get on board my dream?
You know what you do to someone that won’t let you become a Professional Killer? Can you guess? You want to kill but there’s someone standing in the way of you killing? What could you possibly do to overcome this hurdle and pursue your dreams? If you’re thinking Drone Strike than you just might be the ideal Army Man.
Dear Aunty. Everyday on my bus to work there is this young lad. He is on the bus I take to work and on the bus I take home. He looks too young for a job yet too old for school. I’m very concerned as to where he is going. I’m not trying to keep tab I just want to make sure he’s alright. I was wondering what I should say to this kid to find out where he could possibly be going everyday. How should I broach the subject with him without me looking like a nosey rosey?
He’s going to college.
Dear Aunty. My husband keeps shiteting on about things I don’t care about. How do I stop him talking?
The only way to stop a man talking is to stick a big pie in his fat gob and wash it down with a cold can. I’ve a husband too and anytime I get it in the ear the oven gets turned on stat. If you really don’t have time there are microwave pies too. They’re high in starch and carbs but who wants to be married forever.
Dear Aunty. There’s a girl in my life that I have honest intentions to wed. But there’s a wasp in the medicine: She’s thick. Now I’m not one to prejudge and it’s not a problem for me per say but to everyone around it’ll look like I’m divvy scooping. I really like her and almost half of what she says but I don’t know what to do. Please help Aunty.
Sounds to me like you’re caught up in your own bullshit. Spare her the bother and leave her the fuck alone.
Dear Aunty. I think I might be the dying with the plague. Should I tell others or just go quietly?
I’ll get back to you next time.
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