A guy wakes up with a huge hangover and no recollection of his night out with his mates.
Slowly opening his eyes, he sees a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water on the bedside table.
He looks around the room to find his clothes are on the dresser, neatly folded, with a clean shirt on top. The bedroom is immaculate. On the bedside table is a note, which says, “Darling, your breakfast is in the kitchen. I love you.”
Downstairs, he finds his favourite cereal, croissants, fresh OJ and freshly brewed coffee laid out waiting for him, along with the morning paper – and his 15-year-old son, who is finishing his own breakfast. ‘Tell me, son,’ he asks, ‘what happened last night?’
‘Well, says the boy, ‘you came home so blind drunk you didn’t even know your own name. You nearly broke the door down, then you were sick in the hallway, then you knocked the furniture over and when Mum tried to calm you down, you thought she was the police, so you gave her a black eye.”
‘Christ!’ says the man. “Then how come my clothes are all folded, the house is tidy and my breakfast is ready?’
‘When Mum dragged you into the bedroom and tried to get your trousers off to put you into bed, you shouted at her, “Get your filthy hands off me, you whore, I’m married!”
