Dear Holly, I’m really pissed off with my husband. He’s only gone and let his parents invite themselves for dinner again this weekend, which means I’ll have to listen to endless drivel about my father-in-law’s seeping hernia, and how the next-door-neighbour’s cat keeps shitting in their prize rose bushes, whilst my mother-in-law rubs her fingers along all the surfaces looking for dust, and scowls at my lasagne as if it came straight from a dog’s arse. My own parents are decent enough to be honest about the fact that they hate us and stay the hell away; why can’t this pair of old bastards do the same?Esme,Wokingham
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