A Storm In A Teacup

It’s not actually a storm in a teacup its more about “The Condom In The Jug”. You see The Sainted Husband often says that he thinks I am “louche”. He says this when he is in a strop about something. It always goes the same way …. lots of “and another thing” stuff and it ends with the louche thing. Then as I sit writing blameless books about people in codpieces and continuously emptying the dishwasher he starts on about “ them…. that tribe of yours ”. “Personally I think they are a riot”, I say proudly, “surely you were not born in a blue suit?” I ask, but that usually makes it worse, which is rather funny actually, or at least I think it is. It is true my impeccable past is responsible for at least some of the middle class population explosion. But when, as I always do, I ask him to explain himself and provide some examples of this lack of morality he always comes up with, the time someone left a condom in the blue jug in our spare room bathroom. “It was last summer” I remind him, but time has not diminished the shock horror of this event for The Sainted Husband, it is seared in his memory as a beacon of depravity.

I have tried a vigorous defence, as time and again this incident rears its ugly head (forgive the metaphor), pointing out that this showed a commendable deference to sexual hygiene, but that doesn’t work. Actually it’s over a year now and this calls for desperate measures so I am going to move the jug and use it for cocktails. Anyway there will always be something, so watch this space.