Dear readers, we have realised that there are many people in need of good, robust life advice from women such as us who have it all taped. In fact, it is selfish of us not to share our sage, feminist wisdom. So please, do send us your troubles, we will both offer our very best suggestions to soothe your existential pain. Love, Flora and Iris x
I was hoping for some Top Tips for keeping gussets in place. – Stephanie, East Sussex
Well, that depends. Mainly on what is dislodging said gussets. I’ll not be coy, if your gussets are being displaced by general libidinous behaviour, I propose you either cease straightaway, you strumpet or, if you are a woman of appetite, accept that your lewd behaviour will result in a slackening of the gusset. However, if the problem is that the gussets in question are unreliable independent of any amorous interference, I suggest pulling on a robust pair of gym knickers over the top, like a Malory Towers style super heroine. Lacrosse anyone?
Just cut the gusset out, I say, thus creating a pleasant ‘through breeze.’ Perhaps you could channel craft queen Kirsty Allsopp, by embroidering the discarded gusset for use as an ornate elbow pad for rollerskating, a shoulder pad for days in the office, or a camping bed for a harvest mouse or a small weasel?
Can you please advise how I reconcile wanting a man to make me coffee, with my feminism? – Emily, London
This is a tough one. Feminism, as we know, is all about gradually herding men into a colony and making them service us sexually and domestically. More importantly, they will be used to sort our shoes and handbags into colour groups. So, whilst easing your man into a servile role is laudable and kinder to him in the long run, I suggest being wary of alerting him to the man-farm plan. By all means have him bring you coffee, but make sure you throw him off the scent by making him one every now and again. And maybe put out from time to time. But not too often, or he’ll really know something is up. *secret feminazi handshake*
Making coffee is a thankless task, involving exact measurements, steady hands and lots of stuff that is a bugger to clean. That’s why I consumed only instant coffee during my singleton ‘Carte Noire’ years. Now I live with a man, and I would like this man to make my coffee, wash the bin, read me passages from Middlemarch in suitable character voices, make interesting sandwiches and roger me with abandon. I’m too lazy to do it myself, and the alsatian is useless. Does that answer your question?
How can I bag me a nice man to take care of me? – Sarah, Leicester
Sorry to hear you are dried up and on the shelf Sarah. In order to make sure that you do not die alone and are eaten by the army of cats you acquired during your lonely spinsterhood, I’m putting forward the following manipulative tactics that have been particularly fruitful for me. Firstly, adopt a slightly aggressive and frumpy Twitter persona. Possibly choosing a wildly unattractive sitcom character as your avatar. Secondly, be sarcastic and a bit odd. Thirdly DM (direct message) any random man that ‘favourites’ or ‘retweets’ your sarcasm/weirdness. These men clearly hate themselves and are vanquished, feminist push-overs, so ripe for picking off and subjecting to your feminine wiles. Like a female Neil Strauss, I’m beating them off with a stick, obviously. You. Are. Welcome.
Firstly, please insert a paragraph here re. not needing a man to take care of yo’ bad self, you go girl etc etc. Secondly, you need to go to places where men hang about, and just stand there until one of them starts going out with you. How about The Butty Hut at junction 5 off the M65? It’s simply teeming with desirable haulage merchants 24/7, many of whom have charming names like Bones or Big Daz. Alternatively, why not become a lap dancer? That way you can meet lots of trustworthy, sober and desirable men whilst making money AND getting exercise. Otherwise, hang about outside your gate on bin day wearing your most alluring outfit. In fact, just get in the bin. Men like that.