By Brian Robinson.
Some very strange things have been happening in our house lately. The other day I came home to find my wife baking a cake. She never does that. I knew straight away something was up. She’s having an affair. It’s as plain as day. That’s what women do when they want to trap a man. They bake them a cake. Everyone knows that. She denied it of course. Told me I was being stupid. She even laughed at me. Can you believe that!
You haven’t heard the worst of it. Four days later, she accused me of not flushing the toilet. That’s so unfair. She bloody well knows the only time I don’t flush is when the gerbils are in the pan. She tried to cover up her mistake by insisting we don’t have any gerbils. She even told me I need to see a doctor. Yeah, I know! Unbelievable!
You’ll never guess what? She’s only gone and hidden my gun. She said I was dangerous. Me? Dangerous? How are we going to defend ourselves when the aliens arrive I said? That stumped her. She said we’ll have to call the police. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous? Everyone knows the police are in on it. They love aliens. I mean, they’re bloody well related to most of them.
In the doctor’s surgery two days later.
“I want to get my wife committed. She thinks I’ve agreed to see you to get help for myself. That’s how far gone she is.”
I told the doctor everything about the past few days and about all the other strange goings on. I asked, “What do you think doc?”
He said, “It could only be one of two things: either you are raving mad; or she is a dangerous lunatic.”
“Which one do you think it is doc?” I asked.
“It’s rather obvious,” he said. “She’s a dangerous lunatic of course. Everyone knows the aliens have already landed. I see them every day in the surgery. This town’s bloody well swarming with them.”