Mrs cernunnos was "up on blocks" all last week so I quite naturally applied the capitalist principles of supply and demand and took my filthy business elswhere. I got the green light on Sunday morning from my good lady and had a traditional morning session. From the itching I now experience in my undercarriage I suspect that I have received a delivery of new "livestock" on my scrotal ranch! I assume that, since we went at it like two banshees on Sunday, some of these have migrated to her indoors. Ok what do I tell the bitch? She won't buy the toilet seat story. The, "I tried some trousers on" story is also wearing thin. I'm tempted to do the brazen "You dirty bitch, who is he?" line. Unfortunately my wife knows me too well! Now As a student of human nature, I assume that I am not the only reader to have faced this most tricky of problems. There are also more serious doses to be had than co'ck-cattle. How would/did you deal with the problem?