Our house is beginning to look like my former-neighbour Patrick Bayford's ground floor flat. And considering that he was an agoraphobic recluse with hairy knuckles and chronic halitosis, this is no great thing. The miserable, rotting detritus of food packaging and used plates seems to accrue around the coffee table and sofa on an almost hourly basis, at a faster rate than anyone appears to be eating. The whole situation is demonstratively exacerbated by the fact that I am the only one who actually clears any of it up. If any lost or misdirected internet user who stumbles across these meaningless pages has any solutions of how to:
- politely but firmly remonstrate with deliberately - even facetiously - untidy housemates
- OR dispose of their corpses (along with their takeaway packaging)
and could share them with me, I would be hugely grateful. That's not actually fair, Pongo contributes his fair share. An interesting reversal of gender roles then, maybe, that Honksy and Fobbs do nothing, and they are the two girls. Say what you like about the nineteenth century....at least their living rooms were clean.
On another note, some sad days for the Squid family. It's never easy mate, but then nobody said it was supposed to be. To quote Han Solo; 'save your strength. There'll be another time...'
Your loving friend,
Action Squid
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