Man vs. Wife


I have long been derided by my wife for a particular penchant handed down to me by my step-father. Derided and feared. In the cold light of day she rolls her eyes and labels me macabre. By the pale moonlight of night, she looks nervous, will only consume food or drink that she has prepared herself and tends to back out the room.

Which is ridiculous, for if I were to strike, I would not be so predictable as to do so within the witching hour. I would take full advantage of the element of surprise, pouncing when she least expected it. Like mid-poo or during sex. The former would provide me clockwork-regular opportunity to do the deed.  The latter would be the long game; skulking in the shadows, biding my time until Christmas or my birthday. Or after three glasses of Merlot.

Man vs. Wife /woman/women

Watching the Crime and Investigation channel by the bucket load is the unhealthy peccadillo of which I speak (are there any healthy ones?). Left to my own devices I would happily spend the day up to the armpits in the modus operandi of the murderer, the rapist, the scoundrel philanderer or the rampaging schizophrenic. Who could resist such program titles as I killed my BFF, Born to Kill, Couples who murder and I’m going to eat your innards you scrumptious bitch?  (I may have made that last one up).

Back in the day my step-father, an ex-CID man, used to share over the dinner table some of the gory details of cases he had solved. Much to the chargrin of my mother. Obviously sensing my blood-lust he introduced me to his prized collection of paperbacks, detailing the full criminal investigations of the likes of Jack the Ripper, The Yorkshire Ripper, and The bum hole ripper. (I may have made that last one up). At a young age I immersed myselff by lamplight and 25 years on, the desire to dip my toes in the unimaginable remains.

Man vs. Wife: and your time starts……now

Wifey often complains that on the rare occasions that she actually gets to sit in the lounge, she is forced to listen to the plight of innocent victims, usually female, who have met an untimely and despicable end, usually at the hands of a male.  She often jibes that were I to plot her downfall, I would be ideally placed with my bumper knowledge of the many ways to end the life of a woman and dispose of her bits and bobs. I may apply for Mastermind.

Him: Name?

Me: Man in his pyjamas

Him: Occupation?

Me: Nobhead

Him: Specialist chosen subject?

Me: 101 ways to snub out the life of an innocent woman.

I suppose I don’t help matters by openly admitting that I often ponder how to commit the perfect murder. Not hers in particular, just murder in general. Random murder. Murder on the hoof. Now you see me, now you DIE.

That’s how to do it by point of fact. If you are interested. Murder a complete stranger. Someone you have never met or had any dealings with i.e. no ties. Unless you intend to strangle your victim of course.

But, the tables are now on the other foot. The boot has been turned. It would seem, afeared of her own life being snubbed out, Wifey has opted to take matters into her own hands and end my life first. Cheek. I had dibs on that.

Man vs. Wife – case number  425634

And so, I hereby submit for evidence that my significant other, of my own fixed abode has, as the evidence will show your honour, made an attempt on my life, and, by the look in her eye, and, being in full facts of my foibles, is likely to make more.

Your honour, if you please, I have few talents that the court would recognise. I am indeed m’ lud in possession of many charming character flaws. I am interestingly annoying. Some might say to be avoided at all costs. However, your honour, it has long been the case that I am worshipped by one section of society. To those of which I speak I am a necessity. To be sought out not avoided. I speak your honour of midges, mosquito’s, gnats and******** annoying ******* bitey things.

Pardon me for my frank parlance m’lud but I have been purposely singled out by the world’s community of little flying ******, who have, your honour, made it their short life’s work to bite my pale, skinny ass off whenever I dare to step foot into the garden. The garden I share with the accused m’lud.

Him: I’m loosing patience counsel. Get to the point and get there quickly.

Yes M’lud. Your honour on just the very other day, it pains me greatly to say, my wife, the woman to whom I have committed my life, most of my finances and were she to have her way my scrotum via a gruesome vasectomy, did in the sneakiest of sneaky ways attempt to cease my very existence by means of nibbling.  That is to say, M’lud, my wife did try to have me bitten to death. I should like at this stage to submit the following photograph for evidence your honour.  Your honour, exhibit A.

photo (26)

Him: What am I looking at counsel?

You are looking at two virtually identical bottles your honour. Same in colour, same in size and importantly m’lud, same in location. One your honour contains insect repellent, the other, athlete’s foot spray.

Him: You say’ the same’ counsel, but one is made of metal and has a lid, whereas the other is made of plastic and has a lidette? And. Am I right in stating that one  has a blue label and one a green? Hardly the same ? I hope your case is not built soley on this?

Your honour, as stated the bottles look virtually the same and importantly in this case, the bottles were kept in the exact same location. Or to be more precise, one, the insect repellent was kept in a specific, tried and tested location, and was replaced by the other, the athlete’s foot spray, without either my knowledge or consent.

Him: Counsel, the bottles look dissimilar enough that any person choosing to douse themselves in either  spray, should be able to distinguish?


Him: Counsel, this is MY courtroom.


Him: Counsel, I am not convinced that choosing to prosecute this case yourself was the best idea.

No M’lud.

Him: As far as I can ascertain this case has few merits and I am increasingly of the mind that we should no longer waste the time of the jury or indeed the stenographer, who keeps on giggling. Counsel, GET TO THE POINT.

Your honour, on the morning of Friday 23rd August 2013, my wife did knowingly remove a can of insect repellent from the place where I keep a can of insect repellent and replace it with a can of athlete’s foot spray.

Later that morning, as I prepared to venture into the garden to build a chicken coop for the accused your honour, I picked up what I thought was insect repellent and ‘went to town’.

As I stood resplendent in my underpants, spraying myself from head to toe in athlete’s foot spray, there was a moment to be truthful m’lud that I said out loud both – this tastes different’ and ‘goodness me my eyes are stinging’, but your honour thought nothing more of it than that.

Indeed I thought nothing more of it your honour until the evening of Friday 23rd August 2013. M’lud I should like to submit the following photographs as exhibit b,c,d




Him: Explain please council

Your honour, you are looking at various parts of my body, covered in a multitude of insect bites. Insect bites that I would not have been subjected to, had the accused not performed the old switcheroony on me your honour. It is undeniable M’lud that the accused was party to my attempted murder and as such, I request that she be judged very harshly indeed your honour. Perhaps a custodial sentence?

Him: Council are these really photographs of you?

Yes your honour

Him: May I remind you that you are under oath Council. Are they photographs of you council, or are they in fact photographs of some buff hunk you have taken from the internet and drawn red spots on?

Yes your honour

Him: Yes what council?

What you said

Him: Why have your brought these fake photographs into my courtroom?

Your honour by the time I got round to being arsed to write this post, the bites had gone. Plus this is how I look in my head, so it seemed appropriate?

Him: I’ll allow it.

Thank you your honour

Him: Has your wife admitted her involvement?

I think so M’lud. It is difficult to say.  When confronted with the evidence, the accused convulsed in to fits of laughter and her responses thereon became virtually indecipherable. Even when I became enraged and demanded that she at least take the matter seriously your honour; this seemed to make matters worse. It appeared as though the more insistent I became that the case was indeed a serious one, the funnier she seemed to find it. I must confess your honour that at this juncture, I gave up my questioning and retired to my summer house to sulk. And itch. And this is why M’lud that I must insist she be made an example of. Shall I dig out the stocks?

Him: After listening to your evidence counsel and taking in to account the accused’s previous good character, I have no choice but to dismiss this case, and waste no more of the court’s time.  Counsel only you can be blamed for not realising as you sprayed yourself with athlete’s foot spray, that you were doing so with an aerosol and not a pump spray. You are, counsel it would seem, nothing but a big baby, who needs to take a bit more care when doing things and not rush to blame other people when things go wrong. Your wife has my sympathies.

But Your honour, I had three bite’s on my man-bag for heavens sake!

Him: Wear tighter underpants Counsel. Case dismissed.

 ©2012-2013 Man in his pyjamas. All rights reserved.

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  1. Jason Baxter

    As I am also a walking insect beacon, I share your pain. Clearly a miscarriage of justice here! It was funny though.

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