What’s the secret to a successful marriage?

You know those people you see on social media, or in person, who are so ridiculously in love with their other half that it makes you want to puke your lungs out?

Yeah, that’s me I’m afraid.

I often get asked what the secret to a successful marriage is, and I usually reply with the typical series of clichés:

  • You need to be best friends
  • You should always be honest with each other
  • No secrets
  • Always put them first

Blah blah blah.

But, in truth, one of the major secrets to a successful marriage is affectionate verbal abuse….or, as comedian Micky Flanagan puts it, ‘Casual Cunting’.

So why am I sharing this advice with you?  Well, here is a literal word for word interaction with my wife last night (sorry in advance, Mum).

Now, In order for this to make total sense, you need to know that my wife is a tiny 5’1″.  OK, got it?  Let’s continue…

So I was looking for a lighter and I couldn’t find it.  We both looked everywhere and then suddenly my wife said:

“Oh, here it is in my hand”.

I rolled my eyes and jokingly barked, “How do you hide anything in those little dwarf hands!?”

To which she replied, “I can’t…….except yo’ dick!”

Not only did she get a full on high five as we sat there screaming with laughter, but I fell a little more in love with her.

So the real secret to a successful relationship?  Don’t take it all so seriously.  You’re clearly together because you’re in love (or the other person has a lot of money or whatever), so relax and enjoy being the casual cunts you are.

This is more like it actually! (ahem)

Recruitment commute

On the train home, and luckily I’m sat next to two young guys discussing, what I can assume is, how much commission their job gets them and how shit their colleagues are at it.

It becomes very clear, very soon, that they work in recruitment. I have nothing against recruiters as I have friends who do it and I used to be one, but these two little Danny Dyers are the breed of recruiters better described in a word of one syllable.

You figure it out.

They’re sat here, amongst commuters, (lots and lots of commuters who have no doubt been clients and candidates to a recruitment agency at some point) describing clients and candidates like dumb cattle put on this earth to earn them some ‘bank,

Bank? Fucking really??

They’re getting some disapproving looks as they carry on talking wank about their cattle, whilst munching McDonalds a fistful at a time. How ironic.

One of them, we’ll call him ‘Tony’, is bragging about the deals he’s “got on the board” amongst other inane shit, whilst the other is a gap filler whose only role is to listen, nod and occasionally say “I know, he does doesn’t he?” and “yeah, I couldn’t sit next to him”.

Here is a sample of the utter bollocks Tony is coming out with……or at least, what I can make out through mouthfuls of McMasticated mess.

– “I’ve got more deals up on the board, so don’t go bringing it!”

(I’d like to point out these guys are white, and so far away from being ‘street’, they’re practically ‘meadow’)

– “He’s a 23year old 12year old”

(I’m sorry. What? Surely that should be the other way around otherwise you’re simply pointing out a pre-teen is exceptionally mature for his years…unlike yourself?)

– “I’m better than you, you feel?”

(No comment. Seriously, who says “you feel?”?)

– “Ben is a one trick pony”

(Unlike you, who sure is one prick, Tony)

[No idea who Ben is]

– “He finks (not ‘thinks’) he’s God’s gift for a day”

(Is this still Ben? Who knows. Who cares? I just want him to choke on his fries)

There was more, but I think I’ve made my point.

Tony finally gets off the train and they say their goodbyes, which had the word ‘mate’ in it, like, 200 times.

They arrange to see each other next Tuesday.