The LOML read the blog ...

"I don't like it."

"Huh? What's not to like?"

"People might find out who you are. You've got to be careful."

"Why have I? And who people?"

"Nige. You can't say that about him."

"What, that he mumbles in Northern a bit and he did a dodgy karaoke? He can't deny it; it's true. I don't think that's grounds to fall out with him, he's got a much better sense of humour than that."

"But you've said about your deaf ear now, and the rugby club, and that deaf twat game you hate. People will find out it's you."

"They won't. Doesn't matter, I'm tempted to tell them it's me anyway."

"You can't."

"I can. I'm quite proud of it; it might make them laugh. At least I might get some shagging comments if I did."

"But ... but ... I'm just called the LOML in it. I do have a name you know."

"Ahh! As I suspected: now we get to the crux of it. Sorry, tradition dictates that the blogger's wife is known as an acronym. And his mates' wives are known as Mrs Mate. It's traditional."

"But I don't want to be just the LOML."

"You know what the solution is? Get your own blog. Then you get to call me an acronym all you like."

"You know what? I'd call you the DT."

It took me a few seconds to work out what this stood for. How hurtful.