You just cooked a good meal of lamb steaks, broccolli, roasted courgettes, green beans, glazed carrots and asparagus and then the girlfiend comes in from work and immediately moans about the number of pans you've used (all of them) and the distinct lack of potatoes you've had the audacity to serve up with the lamb because, apparently, she can't eat lamb without potatos and she hates carrots and you knew this already but you served them anyway! Aaarrgh!

Just how great am I for not panning her around the head repeatedly until death knocks on the door and takes her off my hands?

I should, at the very least, dump her potato loving arse, though surely?