Building Utopia

But, of course, she would say that.

Amongst many, many other things.

There must be some sort of list somewhere that she keeps updated. A list of all your shortcomings… yes, especially those ones.

You – apparently – have faults that you didn’t even know were faults.

But still, it is not enough that you have been found guilty, even of those myriad failings you didn’t know were wrong. You must show the due contrition.

There must be a show trial.

Even if, like all those good communists of yore, you did not know at the time that your acts would in future become a crime when the inherent failings of the system left you exposed, you would have to take the blame.

For like communism, marriage itself is perfect and the wife – like the leaders of the party – is never wrong. It is always your failings, always your show trial.

It is always your fault.

His fault.

My fault.

We are all to blame.

The system itself cannot be at fault. The leadership of the system cannot be at fault, for she has applied the principles of a successful relationship according to all the doctrines of her books, magazines, websites and best practices of her friends and family. She has arranged things according to their manifesto.

No, the fault lies with those who do not implement those theories and their resultant policies correctly.

Yes, there are wrong ways to fold a towel.

There are reasons why the bin has to be emptied when the decree is issued and not a day or two later.

There are reasons.

But they’re not your reasons. They are not his reasons. They are not my reasons.

But…

Ours is not to reason why.

If we spend all our time criticising the system, sabotaging the prefect system, then it is no wonder that things do not turn out the way her theorists say they should. This should be a marital utopia.

So it follows that someone is not doing as he should.

And we all know who that is don’t we?

After all, there is plenty of evidence that in the last marital party meeting you did show a lack of enthusiasm. Being somewhat indifferent and lacklustre about which would be the most ideologically correct form of soft furnishings for this workers’ paradise.

Didn’t you?

You were too busy with the decedent bourgeois practice of trying to watch the football when the Comintern was in session.

No wonder your reactionary attitudes have put back the date when this glorious people’s marriage will reach a state of perfection. It could have been a perfect marriage where the sceptical outsiders – including even close relatives – were invited into the household to bear witness to the utopia that she has created.

Or they would be allowed to witness this utopia if you stopped leaving your muddy boots in the hall and put them in their allocated place.

As for you insisting that the shopping is not urgent, especially when it gets to the quarter finals and your team is within a shout of a semi for the first time in decades, such bourgeois irrelevances have no place in this brave new world.

For, when she decides that it is time you have to go shopping, you must do your duty for the great noble undertaking, despite the fact there is a chance it could go to penalties and all is not quite lost yet.

Obviously, you – the worker in this noble paradise – need some re-education. So just admit you guilt, get the shopping list from off the top of fridge and do your duty, or this paradise will never be built.

And you know whose fault that will be.

 

Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

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