Stuff your other half does that annoys you


I love this thread.


Same here - although this time I’ve had the silent treatment for two days and the Paddington stares (when I tell Anne this it sets her off again big time :joy:).




Seriously, I can’t get my head around this thread.

I just showed it to my wife and she can’t either.

Bitching about your other half like some split arsed cunt is usually something the other half of the species do, but regardless, carry on embarrassing yourselves.


I dunno, me and the wife had a good chuckle at the dog whistle in the spice rack.


‘My wife is really annoying, she earns all the money, cooks all the food, cleans the house, washes my socks, sucks my dick, lets me spend all my money on ridiculous hifi, puts up with my smelly socks/feet/breath. But she leaves sweet wrappers in the car door pocket and wakes up before me sometimes.’

Woe is me.


That still sounds like it should be a euphemism.




Is this you standing up for equality? :thinking:


Very moving speech.




Lighten up.



Seriously? The only possible justification for the existence of this cyber-U-bend is for a bunch of male-menopausal cunts to moan irrationally about stuff they’d mostly not change if they actually could.

No-one wants to read about how much we actually fucking love our other halves and would saw our own heads off for them if it came to the crunch - it would be a waste of grog and victuals… :face_vomiting: Jeez.


Go back to painting her toenails and leave us to whinge will you :roll_eyes:


FYI she’s from Ombersley so doesn’t have any toes.


Kerri is wonderful, I couldn’t be without her. She changed my life and we have been through so much together. She’s still an annoying twat though.


This song sums up the thread:


My wife annoys the crap out of me.

I would whinge about it, but I’m sufficiently self aware to understand what a miracle it is that she hasn’t yet put me under a patio.

Mutual indifference is the cement that holds us together. That, and the occasional violent disagreement about something totally irrelevant (sometimes leading to the launching of projectiles, such as cookware).

22 years of wedded bliss.

Ah, ain’t love grand…


On the subject of spice rack fuckwittery: Gillian has a brilliant strategy on this. If a new box of herbs or spices doesn’t have an appropriately labelled jar in the rack, no need to worry - just put it in any jar that happens to be empty.


When I asked her how the fuck anyone is supposed to know which spice is in which jar, she told me it’s a very simple matter of opening each jar in turn until you smell the spice you are looking for. Labels, apparently, are for fools.

I spend my days wondering how I got so lucky.


I love the human race