15 Ebrington Road

‘So what do ye call this?’

Phil looked up, his wife’s shaking hand holding a card daubed with a red heart.

He shrugged, ‘Valentine’s card?’

‘From one of your skanky whores. You promised me ye’d stop slagging around …’, Phil ducked as the card hurtled towards him.

‘Babe, darling … I promise … this has nowt to do with me.’

‘What like all the other ‘accidents’ were just slips of the cock. When I get back from work ye’d better be gone.’

The door slammed, Phil retrieved the card.

Fingers crossed the barmaid from the Red Lion had sent it.

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