"Babe, what ARE you doing!?"
"Nothing, Bertha, just scribbling."
"You're writing a ****** poem!
I knew it! "
"No, honestly, I'm not."
"Get your *** in this bed, you sod.
We have a table booked for breakfast in an hour, and I need a good drilling."
"Yes, of course my love."
"If I catch you doing that again, I'm
gonna rip your todger off!"
"Oh, ******, you say all the right things."
She's banned me from posting poems, back soon (hopefully!)