Dear Bai­ley,

Midweek Sport - - CLASSIFIED -

MY wife was mak­ing me some sand­wiches with meat paste the other day and I was stood be­hind her look­ing at her arse as she was wear­ing just an apron and knick­ers.

I thought to my­self: “What the f**k am I do­ing with my life!”

Not only were the sand­wiches shit, but her arse looked like a bag of fer­rets propped up on two tyres.

It was even worse when she turned round and I had to look at her old, craggy, moan­ing face.

So on the drive to work I tossed the sarnies out of the win­dow and de­cided to take one of the girls at work out for lunch.

I’m 50 and she’s in her early 30s and we’re al­ways flirt­ing with each other.

She read­ily ac­cepted my lunch invitation, so I took her to an out-of-the-way coun­try pub.

I ex­plained that I’d just had a row

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