The house was heavy with the scent of polish. ...and Frank was nearly home. The door burst open and keys were flung at a shelf. Shoes fell where they were flicked and bowels were definately still in working order. The welcoming smile was still there in the hallway, yet Frank was sofa sprawled. 'Hi love! Day alright?' Helen entered the lounge and beamed at the demented cockatoo of a man as the TV erupted into life."Gettus abeer luv, It'll be startin soon!" A remote wavered like a preying mantis before the flickering tube. The beer can, still chilled, fell crushed upon the tiles with a clack. Leaning fowards, facial expressions flickering, a hand was raised head high. A virtual can occupied the palm. "There are a couple of Carlsbergs with the salad luv! Get a move on. It'll be starting!" "Okay honey." Compressed aluminium fell and a hand shook another phantom brew. "A fourpack is under the sink. It's nearly starting!" The cupboard door slammed shut and the cans now dangled between face and screen... " I am pig sick of spending my life cleaning this bloody house only to have you roll in, like some sodding beached whale, half cut and well, gawd knows what the neighbours think. I polish, scrub, Well, it's worse than having a child, you would expect it of a child, but a grown man...I should have listened to ........" IT'S STARTED. Thought Frank.