I think you’re brilliant. No, really.
I love how you’re so handy,
doing the garden and the DIY,
washing my car. The perfect hubby.
And you’ve kept your figure.
Not let yourself go, like some men do.

You can’t help it if you weren’t
quite good enough to get that job.
Glass ceiling? Not much. You’re not
as well organised as we are, can’t
multitask. And attention to detail,
let’s face it, that isn’t your forte.

And as for the driving, don’t
get me started. Men have more accidents
than women. You drive too fast. Fact.
Blame hormones- testosterone overload!
Don’t get me wrong, we love you all
but maybe not behind the wheel?

And then there’s you and sport.
What’s that all about?
It’s the same storyline every time,
there’s a big drama and somebody
wins or loses. Or there’s a draw. Yawn.
At least, in a soap, something happens.

Right, I’m just off to get my nails done
and then out for a few gins with the girls.
You leave those dishes. I’ll do them
when I get in. If I remember. And
don’t wait up, will you? Get your
beauty sleep – not that you need it

– you’re just perfect just as you are.
Mwah, mwah. Love you, poppet. Byee.

Liz McPherson

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