Dear Cruise Company
I write on behalf of my father and all the other patient, purse-holding, door-opening, shopping-carrying men of the world. The men whose wives you market to, who like their couch and their remote control but somehow inexplicably find themselves on a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean. (And by inexplicably, I mean their family begged and cajoled and hid the remote in desperation. Their poor browbeaten shoulders slumping in defeat as they give in and agree to a family cruise just for a moment’s peace.)
These are the men whose daily lives revolve around dust and sheep and fixing that-gorram-heap-o-junk that keeps breaking down. The ones who have no interest in climbing to the top of a fake rock wall unless there is a sandwich at the top (and even then there had better be bacon in it); who attend shopping trips, wine tasting and dance lessons under duress; and would consider jumping to a watery grave before attending napkin folding lessons. The men who have been raised in a generation where idle time is wasted time.
It is for these men (and indirectly for the happiness of their wives and children) that I am petitioning you to remove the casinos on your ships and install a Bunnings instead.
Now I know that casinos make money, but hear me out. I’ve put thought into this and the potential for this idea is big. By my calculations it could net your cruise line anywhere between $7.43 and $3,400,000 per year. They’re rough figures you understand, we can get your accountants to flesh out the finer points when we meet to discuss my cut of the profits.
Five Reasons Why Your Cruise Line Needs to Immediately Replace the Casino with a Bunnings
Provides a creative outlet.
Each day they will be able to attend woodworking and home repair workshops in store. At the completion of this class, the participants will get to exercise their creative genius in justifying to their wives the exact reason why they needed to buy a circular saw whilst in the middle of the ocean.