by Bob Jacobs
On our first wedding anniversary Gloria and I had a cozy dinner at Valentino's, the Italian place on Broad Street, and drank two bottles of Montepulciano. The following anniversary we drove home drunk from a late-nighter at Wetherspoons and knocked down and killed a cyclist in a hit and run, and after reaching home we had sex twice on the rug in the lounge listening to Celine Dion singing My Heart Will Go On. Next anniversary I came home early and found her getting screwed by some old guy who'd come round to fix the boiler, so I held him down naked and screaming on the bed while Gloria choked him to death by stuffing his mouth full of Thornton's Special Selection Belgian chocolates. The following year we dined at a charity function attended by the Blairs, and after a few glasses of Chablis Gloria bet Cherie Blair ten pounds that she couldn't get Tony to invade Iraq, and you know how Cherie can't resist a bet when she's had a drink. The day before our fifth anniversary, which I felt was special, I asked Gloria which of our anniversaries she'd enjoyed the most, and she said dinner at Valentino's (which has since closed) was her fondest. I felt crippled, and realized that our marriage was nothing but a sham.
Bob Jacobs, whose full catalog is here, lives in the south-east of England with his wife and kids and Sony Vaio. In his spare time he likes to lie motionless on his back, whistling and staring at clouds.