dylan moran

My Mean Husband

There are very few people in the world who can make me feel like the Biggest Bitch in the History of Bitches.  In fact, there are probably only two people who can make me feel like that.

One is my mother.

The other is The Blokey. 

Months ago I said that if I only see one more band before I die it would have to be The Killers.  It was a very extreme statement, but it was the truth.  Tickets for The Killers went on sale yesterday at 10am. 

I want to go!  I said. 
Well, let’s try getting tickets then, responded The Blokey.
But I have to teach smelly children! I wailed.
I’ll try my best, promised The Blokey.

And he did.  He tried very very hard to get me what I wanted.  But he failed.  By twenty past ten the venue/date we wanted (Cardiff, on a Saturday) had sold out.  So had all (most of) the other dates.  We had a trivial tiff on the phone at lunchtime. 

There are tickets on eBay, I huffed.
I’m not buying tickets off unscrupulous people who make their living out of buying tickets and selling them on at extortionate prices, exclaimed The Blokey.

Later, I met him in a semi-dark silent car park in the middle of maC. 

I know you don’t like me much at the moment, he said.
I think you’re very mean.  You know how much I want to see them live! I sighed.
That’s horrible, he answered.  In fact, that’s one of the most horrible things you’ve said to me.

We made-up, and laughed at Dylan Moran in a crowded Corn Exchange.  My mean husband bought us tickets to see Dylan Moran as a mean surprise ages ago.  Meanie!

And today?

My mean husband went on eBay and secretly bid on some tickets to see The Killers.  My mean husband won the auction.  My mean husband made his wife feel really mean. 

I am a bitch. 

But my husband loves me.  And I feel really sad and really happy, all at the same time. 

please God bless The Blokey for loving me as much as he does xxx Elsabeth