"Er... maybe... why?"

"Because I was woken at 3.00am... by a rectal crumb!"

Relationships - dare I write about them?

While the media artwork departments go to town with bright red graphs plunging off the bottom of your screen, a globe spinning out of control and the word CRISIS with big downward pointing arrows, it strikes me that there's a little stress out there. We'll be working longer hours to try and pull the financial rabbit out of the hat; we'll be worrying about money, and many of us will be swapping explanations like: "It's not you love it's me, I'm just a little tired" for "Please feel free to sod off".

So what can we do to keep those special connections sweet, clean and lemon scented? Having informed the Mrs (Native American name Dark Cloud) that there was nothing to worry about, I consulted Relate....no really I did.... and here are some of the nice lady's handy tips.

Time together, she said, is to a relationship what water is to a plant - it is how a relationship is nurtured and cared for. My relationship wasn't going to be nurtured if I hurled on the Axminster but I continued to listen. To stay connected as a couple we need to feed our relationship with time, sharing hopes and dreams as well as fears and failings, and of course making time to have fun.

I was already biting the back of my hand, but we moved swiftly on to re-aligning the work/life balance. Apparently, there will be times in my life when I have less time than normal (you don't say Oprah). I may be unable to change these circumstances, but by accepting that this is merely a phase I will learn to feel less stressed and focus on my dreams for the future....I was dreaming about kicking this woman's pants off but we'll stick with it.

If it's just not possible to fit everything into one week, then my new friend advised I expand my timetable. Rather than stressing about fitting in a romantic evening every week (we last had a night out in 2003 at Catford Dog Track and lost 50 notes), I need to schedule that long winter country walk on a fortnightly basis. That way we're less likely to fail - the back of my hand was starting to bleed.

And then if we're going through a particularly demanding time we need to get help to create space - get this - it seems that there are now meals available that are pre-prepared and merely need re-heating, in what is she called a microwave. This will save us valuable minutes, as will internet shopping, and a special machine that washes dishes. Hold on while I swap my lace ups for slip-ons and wonder what to do with all the spare time.

If we can afford it we should get a cleaner; she even suggested asking the mother in law if she'd help out with the ironing - I didn't have the heart to point out she's working as a fluffer in Vegas.  The kids can help by washing the car (you can hear the scratches on my paintwork), and big sisters can help with babysitting while we go out - otherwise known as my lad sets fire to the back bedroom with his chemistry set, while the front room hosts a sponsored snogathon.

And my relationship guru then went on to say that any meal tastes better when eaten together, and we won't see the clutter by candle light - I'm sorry, but I'm drawing the line here; my special somebody is a cross between Wendy Craig and Lucrezia Borgia, if you're old enough to remember either of those top chefs - I need to clearly see what's on the end of my fighting irons.

So it went on - we should make appointments to see each other, think about quality rather than quantity, and then it got really heavy as we descended into differences in ambition and whether my partner is embarrassed by my career status - oh no, she's chuffed up to her droopy balloons to tell all and sundry that her old man's a back street T-shirt printer; what woman wouldn't bounce about on that social trampoline?

I'd had enough of watering my relationship plant. I said thank you, started drinking heavily, and wondered what techniques I'd been using to avoid being kicked out in the last 23 years - it certainly wasn't any of the above.

Continuation words of course - these are vital while watching football, and consist of vaguely listening for the end of sentences and then repeating the last two words your partner says.....

"So I said to her, Doreen I said, your boss is a sexist pig"

"Sexist pig?"

"Yes, next thing you know it'll be Rohipnol in her Activia"

"Her Activia?"... and so on.

This can work for the full ninety minutes, but don't risk extra time.

Then there's my Grandad's advice - always say you're going to be home at least an hour later than you think you really will be. That way your life will always be full of pleasantly early arrivals.....'The lads have all stayed on for the stripper and the free pork pies, but I just wanted to get home love' - don't blow this by urinating in the wardrobe.

Flowers are good, but I think I may have been more successful with cakes and biscuits - few can resist the Florentine Fig Wafer or the Gypsy Cream, but if you really want to get lucky, knock her out with a Devonshire Split.

Magazines - a quick flick through Cosmopolitan is the equivalent of the Allies capturing the Enigma Machine. Secretly learn the correct answers to any of the multiple choice surveys, look clueless and offer yourself up for examination - go on, test me on erogenous zones. Dark Cloud (Native Nottingham name the Mrs), genuinely thought I was a Doctor of Sexology after one such late night quizzing. But I made the mistake of confessing and was ninja'd with a rolled up December issue, which brings us on to... don't get caught. A friend of mine has recently been under house arrest; he was grassed up after 17 years of telling his wife he was late home due to Forest games going to penalties - he was even caught last Saturday afternoon trying to climb out of the lounge window - a schoolboy error.

Fishing, allotments, the self help escape department, or in military parlance SHED, they're all good places to hide. But as the economy collapses and Mick Hucknall re-appears, 8 stone heavier singing ‘Trousers too tight to mention', there's only one way forward - it's socks in pairs, aim straight, seat down, plump the cushions, shoes on the rack, draw the curtains, light the fire, fill the glass, stroke the hair, hear the story, nod the head, hold the hand and say: "You know I forget sometimes....but there really is only one of you isn't there, only one most special, Darkest Cloud ... and we'll get through this together just like last time won't we....nice cup of tea love?"

Cheers,

Paul Stephenson

http://www.bgdf.co.uk/

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