You know the feeling, you get up early, strip the beds, wash it all nicely and get it out on the line really early to maximise the day's drying potential whilst ensuring your sheets are rendered whiter than white by the sun, simultaneously saving the planet by not using the tumble dryer. Oh! The sense of satisfaction and virtue!
Then just as you sit down with a nice cuppa and the paper after hanging up your third load of washing SOME PLONKER LIGHTS A BONFIRE SO YOU GET SOOT ALL OVER YOUR WASHING AND IT SMELLS OF BURNT RUBBISH!!!
I think we should introduce a form of local bylaw in which it is perfectly permissible to drag these blokes (it is invariably the males of the species, after all, as they are closet cavemen who like to Make Fire rather than shell out for a skip) to the reinstated village stocks for a full rotten tomato offensive.
Who will join me, ladies????