Thursday, May 14, 2009

A formal complaint about shirts.

It was a beautiful day yesterday and after dealing with my arduous morning duties I climbed the stairs to my study, sat my pert bottom upon my old oak chair and for a brief moment contemplated the quiet house, the peaceful solitude. I planned to indulge myself in some creative writing, perhaps a few emails and maybe even a little surfing on the internet for any new wondrous diet pills that might be available for small, pert bottomed ladies.

Slowly, deliciously, I lifted the lid of my laptop...

And there it was.

A handwritten note.

It was clearly recognisable as the Good Mr T's handwriting.

My heart fluttered, my pulse raced. At long last, after all these years I had finally, finally got a love letter from Mr T. Thoughts of sweet, affectionate, loving words crossed my mind. Words that would make my knees wobble, my lips moist, my body tremble with desire......

And then I read the note.

The note that drew my attention to his lack of shirts.

Yes, that's right readers; it was a formal complaint about his lack of ironed shirts.

I duly closed my laptop and retreated to the kitchen.

Unable to tie the noose sufficiently well and discovering that we don't actually have a gas oven I decided I might as well iron the shirts.

To keep my brain active during this mind numbing task I watched George Clooney in Intolerable Cruelty and Jude Law and Clive Owen in Closer. (There were a lot of shirts.) This made the task slightly more bearable. Well George made it a lot more bearable; you know I didn't even know I had a steam iron.

But what I want to know is why oh why do men require so many shirts at once? Are they so petrified about being attacked by an army of invading curries that they need a minimum of ten shirts ironed and hanging ready for battle in the wardrobe? Or do they have a bet on at work to see whose poor, over-worked wife has ironed the most shirts? Yep, I can see it now.....

"My wife ironed 10 yesterday."

" Well my wife ironed 12 and a pair of pants and she used starch spray."

"Bid deal! My wife ironed 20 shirts, 5 pairs of pants, 20 handkerchiefs, shot an elephant, painted a masterpiece and served me up a haute cuisine meal."

"Oh yeah! My wife........ blah, blah, blah, blah......."

Here's an important question; how many shirts does a man, on average, require in a day??

It's tricky. Think carefully. It could be a trick question.

Okay, that's enough thinking. The answer is...

ONE

Yes that's right. ONE.

Not two, three, four or five but ONE.

Now of course there are exceptions like when a man clumsily tips his cereal over himself at breakfast or chokes on his coffee when he reads his credit card bill but generally he only needs one shirt a day. So why this need for so many shirts? Mr T even has shirts in storage.... Why? Why? Why? Is there going to be a world shirt shortage? Will bankers throw themselves out of skyscrapers and the world economy collapse due to a lack of shirts???

" I can't take anymore of this! "

"Don't do it Mr Intrepid. Don't jump!"

"I am a broken man. I have no more shirts!"

"Don't jump. It's not worth it!"

(Sobs) "But my shirt is 12 months old and has a curry stain. I can't find another anywhere. My life is falling apart! Oh sweet death I embrace thee......."

"Take my blouse!" (Unbuttons blouse and hands to Intrepid) "Please take it!"

"No, I can't, I can't!"

" But my blouse really suits you! The colour really flatters your complexion. Pleeeease don't jump Mr Intrepid. Don't throw your life away over a stained shirt! Here takes my bra as well....You look wonderful..... you look like a new man!"

" But how can I wear them? (Weeps prolifically) How can I? When I have no matching earrings.... Oh God, what shall I do? I shall be the laughing stock of Wall Street.....(Wails)

"Here, take my earrings and my handbag...........You look divine!"

"You thinks so? (Tears momentarily abate.) But I have no tights! How can I go to the board room with no tights? Oh, no, no, no..........."

" Here, take my tights. Be careful how you put them on. I said be careful now....You're wobbling! STOP! ......STTTOOPPP....... WATCH OUT.... NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

(Mr Intrepid falls to a certain death; no mention of the tights was made in the obituary. However on the gravestone it read; "Here lies Intrepid. He died a New Man.")

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So you can see from this sorry tale that men just can't do without their shirts. Just like women can't do without their choccy.

The only difference is you don't have to iron choccy.


21 comments:

  1. Oh Boy! I started today off just fine. I was actually having fun. Now, I'm a cross dresser who meets a tragic end. All over a shirt. I think I'll wear a wrinkled T-shirt next time..... (Wakes up from very wierd dream)

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  2. Phew... you're still talking to me!
    Now you know it was just one of my little tickling sketches.

    By the way...what colour tights do you prefer? I like Barely Black but I could go for the light green ones -with a matching scarf perhaps? What d'you reckon?

    Hee, hee, hee......

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  3. Ouch! Never leave written evidence. It then becomes something that can be brought out at any such later day to show how "unreasonable" us blokes are.

    You'll have long since forgotten about it, thought it but a trifling matter - but when you least expect it, the evidence of this mental cruelty will be brought out to show what a monster you really are.

    Next time write on something that must be cleaned, like a mirror or the dust on the coffee table or computer screen. These writing then have a dual purpose. A reminder of ironing duties and housework ;)

    /me honour degree in chauvinism, MCP after my name.

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  4. Excellent point Roxy; I shall now remove the two pieces of stale manky chewing gum from the offending piece of paper and attached it to my magnetic reminder board to be viewed by Mr T for all time to remind him of what NOT to write.

    (By the way - I don't really like gum I'm just on this weight loss challenge and it's stopping me nibbling. Just thought I mention that - don't want you to think I come from Essex.)

    Sooooo you're a MCP hey? Hmmm...this is worrying. All these MCPs attracted to my site. (Obviously I'm thinking of Gary here -I reserve judgement on Intrepid - because of the clothes issue.) Perhaps I need to do a further post on this important topic...Hmmmm.....

    Mrs Turley BA PHD FAB HOT and A1 Housewife.

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  5. Une chemise par jour? Pas si vous ĂȘtes Mr M!

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  6. Ahhh Madame M,

    Welcome to la Witty Ways de Waywardy 'ousewife.

    Me no speaky le Language du Froggy. Me usey Googly translator and it ready tres silly willy. Bien, Bien. Me knowledge de froggy extend to Jean Paul, Pierre, Claudette et Marie Antoinette. Oh, et Napoleon. Me study Napoleon a la universite and moi conclude ee ad very short legs et a big hat. Nest pas? Comprehendez??

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  7. Gosh. I have that heavy sort of feeling I did after my mom gave me the Talk (about Santa Claus, of course). Stained clothing? Actual ironing? George Clooney? -Wait a minute. That was another talk.
     
    Well, this obviously calls for better food to clothing selection. Don't order anything but milk or mashed potatoes (no butter) if you're wearing a white shirt. Too bad about Intrepid, though.

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  8. Ah yes Heather...you know the milk and mash potatoes sounds rather like...baby food! Are you saying something here about the male species? 'Cos I'm thinking you may be right!

    Yes, 'tis a pity about poor Interpid but I fear he was building up to this fashion disaster for quite some time!

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  9. Women. If only you stuck to the three commandments. Wash, clean and obey.

    My old next door neighbour asked me today if i thought women were bad drivers. I said, no, I'm sure there is a decent one amongst them somewhere, I just haven't met her yet. thought you might appreciate that conversation Mrs T, as we all know you are not THE one!

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  10. Oh yeah Gary? I may have had a couple of "minor incidents" last year but other than that my driving are supreme; just remember I'm the woman with a one-handed back hand!

    PS; My new bike is working really well. An extra £2.00 says I'm gonna win with a last minute surge from the rear! Ha, ha!

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  11. That was "driving skills" by the way - obviously my grammatical skills are not quite so supreme.....

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  12. Ahem.

    Can't he iron his own shirts?

    PS To confirm your theory, there about 20 hanging in Dr Jekyll's wardrobe...And he bought another 5 last week.

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  13. Now Why Miss Hyde am I not surprised that Dr Jekyll has a similar stash of shirts?!And the Good Mr T will also purchase shirts in similar quantities. Hmm.... tis worrying.

    Now I must relate a further story to you that occured on Friday. I met a lady from the cricket club of our acquaintenance (Not the delightful Madame M) at Tesco's checkout at which time she blurted out;

    "I've just had a call from Mr X to say that he went to work in one of his ordinary shirts. And now that he has been asked to give a presentation he wants me to to drop off one of better shirts by 12pm. "

    An impressive tale of woe indeed; it seems that this obsession with shirts is on a global scale.....

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  14. On the plus side, there is that scene in "Working Girl" where Harrison Ford changes his shirt in the office...

    Do you think that's what Mr T does?

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  15. Harrison Ford's chest must have a made a big impression on you Miss Hyde because even though I've seen Working Girl (A long, long time ago) I can't remember that scene! (He was good in those tight pants in Star Wars though.)

    Mr T only takes spares when he's away - in case of the surprise curry attack - so no chance of anything risque in the office. Well not that I know about. (Unless you include the cream cakes on the birthdays.)

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  16. Give me a T-shirt for casual wear and T-shirt with a print of a tie on it for formal wear. No worries!

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  17. So what you're saying here PB is that you rarely get out of your Australian National Costume?? Hmm.
    I can see that on your trip here there will be no problem identifying you at the train station.

    Naturally, I will be wearing my pinafore, curlers and 50 denier tights. I'll be hard to spot amongst all the other housewives on the platform but I do have a distinct identifiable feature from the rear view; if there's an eclipse you'll know I'm in the vicinity.

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  18. That's good. Australian National Costume? Why is that not de rigueur in my husband's office? And to whom should I address my formal complaint?

    Also, I've never ironed chocolate but something funny has got itself stuck to my iron and it keeps coming off on the shirts. That's my excuse anyway.

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  19. Stop Press : Our ironing board has broken. Only Dr Jekyll knows how to stop it collapsing.

    Apparently we don't need a new one as the old one is fine, despite the fact that I can't use it.

    That's a shame isn't it?

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  20. Oh Jane you are the best!! xoxo

    I want to love Mr T. because you chose him therefore he obviously has many redeeming qualities, but his persnickety-ness is getting up my nose. :(

    Is there not a Chinese laundry that would do his blessed shirts?! (I am snorting indignantly, by the way.)

    Hmmph! He'll be singing another song when Mr. Intrepid shows up in your clothes, he will!

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  21. Oh Marie - good to see you!

    I am (literally) breaking off from washing the carpet in my study to answer your comment. You see a woman's work is never done! However, as this is my owm precious room I don't feel quite so bad about it - I'm giving it a revamp in order to make it more amenable.

    Yes, well Mr T does have many redeeming qualities - his addiction to housework is not one of them though:) I like the sound of you snorting indignantly - I think I'll try that myself! But knowing my luck I'll just sound like a deranged horse....

    Hmm.. I reckon Mr Intrepid would look very fetching in my pinny - he's got style you know:)

    Miss Hyde - Have you got a new ironing board yet? Mr T is on the hunt for one to match his new iron - has yours been rebuilt with sticky back plastic or does Dr Jekyll have a recommendation??

    Mrs B - Strangely enough I have the very same problem with my iron. I thought it was chocolate too - but when my tongue got burnt I discovered the horrible truth!

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