How to make your flatmate wash their fucking dishes

Start leaving passive aggressive sticky notes on the fridge, like “Don’t forget to tidy up! :)”. Progress to leaving them on the bathroom mirror, front door and under their bed. Remember, the more smiley faces you use, the less of an asshole you are! 

Call their mum and have a nice hour-long phone call about how their parenting techniques went so wrong. Encourage them to reach out to their offspring and reprimand them. However, after weeks of intimate conversations, you realise you’ve never felt this way before. Is this what...love feels like? Flatmate will eventually either move out, after hearing you shagging their mum, or you’ll be too in love to notice the dirty dishes anyway. 

Put all the dishes in their pantry or fridge shelf. Then wait. 

Draw sad faces on the dishes with dishwashing liquid/tomato sauce. No one can resist turning away from such artistic expression. 

Start posting on Massey Confessions with intimate details of your rage. If that doesn’t work, call them out on a community Facebook forum like Vic Deals, naming and shaming. 

Send in pics to Massive’s snapchat! We love snaps hehe. 

Message the group chat that there’s a flat inspection coming. Watch the panic ensure. Last minute, tell them that the landlord cancelled/got the dates wrong. Whoops! 

Replace all the dishes in the house with paper plates. Stash the pans in a cupboard with a padlock. 

Take polaroids of the dishes and slide the pics under your flatmate’s door every couple of days. When confronted, claim ignorance. 

Tentatively seduce your flatmate. Wear revealing PJs around the house, break down their emotional walls. Wrap them around your goddamn little finger. Take them on dates to art galleries and small Italian bistros. Kiss them under the full moon. Meet their parents, pick out baby names. On the day of your wedding, when asked if anyone has any reasons to object to such a union, slowly raise your hand. “They didn’t do their fucking dishes,” you weep, genuine tears in your eyes. You’ll walk out and start a new life with that hot server from the Italian bistro. The dishes will never again be left to pile up in the sink. 

Have an honest conversation with them face-to-face about how you’re feeling. Haha, just kidding.