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Pensioners watching smart meter like it’s a telly



HOME can be a confusing place for men, who find themselves surrounded by shit they cannot comprehend. Here, bewildered bloke Martin Bishop explains.

Reed diffusers

Half-a-dozen bits of twig stood in a jar of oil. What’s that about? Apparently they make the place smell nice, but what’s the point when I’ve been eating a takeaway jalfrezi on my lap and the living room already smells as good as when I walk past the Taj Mahal curry house in town?

Excessive cushions

Eight on the sofa, five on the bed. Why? There’s only two of us, how comfortable do we need to be? Though admittedly, they do come in handy when I get home too pissed to manage the stairs and chuck them on the floor as a makeshift bed.

House plants

Plants are meant to live outside, where all the sunshine and rain and things they need to survive are. Keeping them indoors is completely illogical, but that didn’t stop me getting in the shit when I used it as an excuse for accidentally killing them when my wife was on that girls holiday in Turkey.

Table runners

A thin strip of cloth that nowhere near covers the width of the table. What’s it for, aside from getting me a bollocking when I stood my coffee mug on it and left a circular stain? I was trying to avoid marking the varnish, which is also a crime. Such a mystery.

Full-length mirror

The only thing I need a mirror for is to shave in, or occasionally brush my hair, and the little one on the bathroom wall is perfect. How can anyone need to check what they’re wearing when they’ve just put their clothes on and can look down at themselves?

Pillar candles

Huge bloody things. Two on the fireplace, another on the dining table. And none of them have ever been lit. It’s like living in a cross between a Catholic cathedral and the blackouts of the 70s. Come to think of it, we could burn them to save having the lights on this winter. I’ll suggest it tonight, she’s bound to think it’s a brilliant idea.



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