Two fellas are out for a rare night out in the pub. As the night draws on and the last bell is in danfer of ringing one starts getting a little morose. Whats up with you ask the other. Welll ya know me Pete. I'm hardly ever out. I do everything for the family and the Mrs and kids. I'm always working and taking them out and that. I come out about once a month.
Rigggght.... says Pete. Hardly ever see ya these days. So whats the problem?
Well. It's the Mrs, Pete. Even that one time a month I get in after a drink and I'm really quiet. I never go home piss*d to the eyeballs. I carefully put the key in the lock, sneak the door open, get undressed in the dark and creep up the stairs so I wake no one and every time lying there in a rage waiting for me! She's straight on my back. Where have you been? What time do you call this? Why are you so late!? You're useless!
It's driving me mad Pete. He holds his head in his hands in despair
Pete looks at him for a while.
I have to say. I think you're going about it all wrong he says.
How's that Pete?
Well, says Pete. When I go home I make sure I'm singing DannyBoy halfway down the road. When I get to the door I spend a full minute just banging the keys against the door. Then I kick it open and stumble in. I turn all the lights on. Then the telly. Then I go in the kitchen and make a sandwhich. When I'm ready I roll up the stairs kick the bedroom door open rip the duvet off the bed and say 'How about a bit love?'
Fast asleep Every Single Fu***ng Time.
Some women just can't get priorities right. 
