Last night didnt turn out quite as Id planned.

Where are my clothes?

Wherever you left them, Husband.

I left them in my house, and theyre not here now.

Maybe they were stolen, Ive been distracted today what with trying not to impale myself on a golfing umbrella and being fat.

I didnt call you fat. He says.

You did a bit. Its fine, and I will diet if itll make you happier.

(Accusing someone of calling you fat is an easy way to panic them. This only works if youre fat.)

I didnt say I want you to diet!

You said that I should be vegetarian in order to lose some weight!

No I didnt! Thats about your headaches! And I didnt even suggest it! It was my mother!

So now your mother thinks Im fat?

The ripe panic on Husbands face is as obvious as that wart thing on Sarah Jessica Parkers chin.

Look, can we just drop it, Husband; youre only making it worse. Ive had a really busy day today and Ive got a paper cut. And stop going on about your clothes, I dont know what youve done, but I suggest you find them.

Yeah ok babe, Ill go and have a look, I need to find something- Ive got my team lunch out tomorrow and theyre doing pictures for the new ID badges.

Shit.

Husband rummaged around upstairs for nearly an hour. Obviously he was never going to find his clothes- by that time they were probably being chucked around by a night-shift postal worker that smells of grapes and speed.

Cant find them babe- but good news... Ive found my old Uni clothes in the attic; Ill throw some of them on a quick wash.

Oh my fucking God.

I dont know if Im alone here, but when Husband and I moved in together, I confiscated a large portion of his wardrobe for shames sake. Theyve been boxed in the attic ever since.

You cant wear those, I forbid it.

Im going to have to babe. If my clothes really have been stolen then I dont have a choice- I cant even pop to Tescos to get something new as Ive had a few beers. Hes calling my bluff. He wouldnt.

Apparently he would. The man has no shame.

Husband went to work this morning dressed in a Global Hyper Colour T-shirt, leather waistcoat and a pair of satin stripe trousers belonging to a long lost tuxedo. The trousers are so tight you can see his knob, the waistcoat has the look of a raped and splayed bean bag and the T-Shirt appears to have Chlamydia. I am absolutely fucking mortified.

You dont have to tell people that youre married when youre on a works day out Husband- I dont mind if you want to pretend that youre single sometimes.

Dont be daft, Wife, I love you, I love telling everybody that Im married to you. I have photos of you in my wallet. I show them to everyone.

I just mean that you dont have to mention my name- you could just say my wife you dont have to use my full name.

Youve got a lovely name, I like it when people know were married, loads of people in work know you.

Ive always considered my Husband to be a really decent accessory- hes a tidy bit of kit. Im proud to be married to him because hes an amazing person but mainly because because hes quite easy on the eye. The thought of him venturing out looking like hes been dressed by an autistic Gok Wan is making me die inside.

Dont forget 1pm in La Cantina- Ive left taxi money on the bookcase- all the Husbands and Wives are going so Ill be really pissed off if youre not there- I did email you about it yesterday.

I dont read his emails, theyre really fucking boring; He once sent me 800 words about the new adjustable desks being introduced at the firms new premises. Since then I just reply Ok, Love you to whatever he sends.

I hope to God I impale myself on a golfing Umbrella before midday. RoadRunner- 1 Wiley Coyote- 0.