Men of the World, Unite!

Me, I is a modern man, innit, a man about the house, a man whose work is never done, a man who is handy to have around. Yes indeedy, I know my way around the washing machine, the oven, even the dishwasher, and am a dab hand at sterilizing the baby bottles...but I digress...

Why is it that my t-shirts have disappeared into the black hole known as the laundry basket? Why have I had to resort to wearing my 1990's fcuk t-shirts to work, the ones every modern man back in Blighty now probably uses to clean his car windows...?

Could it be that mrs anglosaxy is in charge of the laundry? Yes it could. After a long glorious campaign, the keys of the laundry powder casket were recently handed over to the fairer sex. And we ain't impressed. Early promise has given way to feeble excuses. At this rate, I could be going to work clad in only my Mr Men boxers. In fact, once mrs. anglosaxy reads this, that possibility could well become reality...

But guys, we really know what goes down, don't we? We know, right? And before you slink off back under your thumbs, don't forget to take the rubbish out. And clean the frying pan. And pick up the kids' toys. And...and...and...and...