The art of marriage…

HN (bellowing)
I don’t know why I try and work from home!!! Ever!!!!! Bloody printer’s broken! And which child’s had the cable? *%$***!
Me – here is a spare USB cable, Oh Light Of My Life. Will that help? (inserts cable)
HN (switches machine on at wall and hits it a few more times) – Christ, it’s broken.(thump) Now it’s completely broken! What the hell is going on now??? (thump). Oh hang on…that’s an ‘on’ button…..

I took an executive decision today and bought HN a new electric toothbrush to replace the decrepit version he’s clung to for the past decade. A Public Enquiry over supper into the purchase has vindicated my decision to purchase the model with only one operating speed. (HN cannot see the point of ‘options’). A more robust legal challenge was mounted to counter the argument that his old brush only oscillated at a quarter of the speed it once did. According to HN, he only ‘bloody oscillates at a quarter of his old speed’……

 to psychic (and patient) wife -so what contact lenses do I need, then?

W – the ones that show you my inner beauty, dear

HN – Ah. That’ll be the ‘special’ lenses, then


Me (ironically) – supper ready when you got in, log fire, Masters on TV until 1.00am and you wake up to find a woman in bed with you: pretty perfect life, huh?

HN (without a trace of irony) – certainly is if I can fix the yipping….


HN has vetoed booking a hotel in Florence that advertises ‘the services of a free multi-lingual personal shopper’……. and it’s not as though I even MENTIONED anything about shopping….


 HN says domestic universe appears to run on B(efore) C(offee) and AC……..


Just spent vital minutes of her life pelting to the dry cleaners to collect the suit that HN swore was in there. Nope. It’s in his wardrobe, in full view, had he bothered to check before issuing domestic instructions before 7.00am.


Priceless.HN has now retrieved the (admittedly unopened) stoneware dish of out of date Ardennes pate from the bin, rinsed the muck off the plastic, and eaten it for supper in preference to my lentil and vegetable cottage pie. Mary Berry, in case you wondered.


The Big Question is worrying me: have we become Margo and Jerry or Sybil and Basil? 


knows times are ‘ard, but wonders if her Profligate Ways really merit His Nibs rummaging in the bin for the unopened carton of out of date cream to use on his 66th portion of cold christmas pud…….


..according to His Nibs, the parking ticket I managed to collect at the railway station is, variously, extortion, the stupidity of women, proof that there are millions of unnecessary journeys made every day, countless thousands of drivers who shouldn’t even own cars, far too much money sloshing around being used to finance said cars, legalised robbery, evidence of a slide towards a totalitarian state and evidence of fascism.

At least I think so. I stopped listening 😉


24th anniversary conversation:

Me: ‘so do you think sex is the only glue that holds a marriage together?’

His Nibs: ‘Yup. Quick dab with a Pritt Stick once in a while…’

Me: ‘Er……hmm…..’



 ‘it would be good to feel some passion again…’

‘A gesture. That’ll be it. Women like gestures’.

‘No, more emotional. Like – you’d die if you weren’t with me. Or something’.

‘I’ll bloody die eventually, with or without you! How’s that? 


6.45am: “you’d never say I was the love of your life….”

“of course you bloody are for chrissake. Jesus.”

Ah romance……..


Oh dear. HN mid shave: ‘where’s my bloody towel FGS?’

Me: ‘…….around your waist….’



2 Responses to The art of marriage…

  1. alifp says:

    Tell HN he has my thanks for making me actually laugh out loud 🙂

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