Dear Yak,
I’m a respectable mother, grandmother and tax-paying pillar of society. But yesterday at the supermarket when I was panic-buying toilet paper, I accidentally bit a woman’s finger off.
In my defence, it was her own fault. She was reaching for the very last jumbo pack of premium, 4-ply, rose-scented, soft, strong and very, very long, but it was mine because I saw it first.
Luckily the plastic wrapping protected the product from her spurting blood. But when I got home I noticed some bloodstains on my brand new cashmere cardigan. Should I send her the bill for the dry cleaning? It seems only fair.
Yours most sincerely,
Oh Crap!
Dear Oh Crap!,
I have to say I’m really enjoying this whole toilet paper crisis. And it seems so fitting that this humble but essential personal hygiene accessory is grabbing global headlines right now. After all, it serves as a great metaphor: life is like a sheet of toilet paper – you’re either on a roll or taking shit from some arsehole.
Hope this helps.
With kind regards,
The Yak
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