I have volunteered to do The Washing Up in my shared house For Ever, in exchange for Never Having To Do The Bathroom Or Hoovering. What madness, you may say!

The Washing Up is a chore reknowned for wrecking marriages and accelerating the deterioration of mental function, but I am Zen-like in my commitment, sticking some Pirate Drum N Bass on the radio and donning the marigolds. Fine.


  • AAARGH #1: Do Not bloody put KNIVES straight into the washing up bowl WHILST MY HANDS ARE IN THERE doing said washing up. Not only will this result in my fingers being cut to ribbons but also the Washing Up Sponge being sliced up, rendering it limp and useless for further Washing Up Activity. For knife-cleansing one must switch to the Washing up BRUSH which has much hardier bristles (but fails to remove stubborn stains).
  • AAARGH #2: My housemates have a habit of placing dirty dishes/cutlery/saucepans into the empty bowl, turning on the tap and ‘leaving it to soak’. THIS WILL NOT HELP! It does not clean the items in question but turns the bowl into a Minging Washing Up Soup (or MWUS). The MWUS must be emptied, the items re-stacked onto the formica, errant forks located and the bowl cleaned of MWUS residue before Washing Up Proper can commence. It smells rank and doubles the ETA of Washing Up Completion. If you really want to aid the process yet not actually wash anything then 1) scrape off your food before dumping it on the side and 2) rinse off saucepans as soon as you have finished cooking instead of leaving them full of MWUS.
  • AAARGH #3: The poor design of our draining board means that once clean but wet items are placed on said draining board, the water drips off the side and makes a puddle on the floor! Perilous if one wishes to conduct The Washing Up sans shoes, or wishes the kitchen floor to remain unmuddied.
  • AAARGH #4: If you are going to burn porridge you can bloody well clean the pan yourself. Burnt Porridge = most adhesive substance known to man! I wonder that it is not used in the construction industry! Mmm, Burnt Porridge House. *beckons* Come here, little children….

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