The Wife

Went out last night and got really wasted.
I woke up next to a fat bird who was snoring and farting.
At least I knew I’d got home OK!!

The wife's back on the warpath again.
She was up for making a home movie last night, and all I did was suggest we should hold auditions for her part.

I've accidentally swallowed some Scrabble tiles.
My next s**t could spell disaster.

My sister-in-law sat on my glasses and broke them.
It was my own fault.
I should have taken them off.

I woke up this morning at 8 and could tell something was wrong.
I got downstairs and found the wife face down on the kitchen floor, not breathing!
I panicked, I didn’t know what to do.
Then I remembered Wetherspoons serve breakfast until 11.30.

After both suffering from depression for a while, me and the wife were going to commit suicide yesterday.
But strangely enough, once she killed herself I started to feel a whole lot better.
So I thought "Sod it". I'll soldier on.

And finally . . .

I spent a couple of hours defrosting the fridge last night.
Or "foreplay" as she likes to call it!






























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Stolen Janner, to share amongst the wider service community.