Solving problems in the bedroom

I am sat here down stairs. Mines Mr Husband is sleeping off a night shift, upstairs. I can hear his snoring vibrating through the ceiling. Its no secret that mines Mr Husband is a fervent snorer. Always has been and always will be. With the exception of a small window when he went and had a 'nose job'. It stopped for a while, but has returned with a vengeance. It has driven me to distraction. I have worn the settee out where I slept so many nights on it. So much so that now we have to have separate bedrooms. I may even let him have a bed in his room one day. He tells me that it is natural to snore. Cavemen started the trend- they slept in the doorways to the cave and snored loudly to deter dragons and dinosaurs!

Have ye tried snoring remedies I hear ye all ask? Have I tried snoring remedies? Have I?

We know there are copious snoring 'remedies'.  Like millions before us and millions after us we have tried it all at great expense. You name it. Sprays and strips, jaw clamps and nose clips. He has gone to bed looking Hannibal Lector. Then I really had trouble sleeping I can tell you! He has countless e-books on the subject and has even posted articles on google. Nothing, works. I have suggested he gets hard back copies of the books, than I can make him up a spare bed made of them! Or hit him over the head with them. Either or, I am not fussy, just feckin tired. He has even tried a nifty little ring that you wear on your little finger. Someone suggested earplugs but still he snored. I even put a picture of Susan Boyle on the bedside for him and he just turned her round to face the wall.

We purchased a snoring pillow that came, I kid ye not, with a free full set of kitchen knives. I put the pillow on his side of the bed (naturally) and I kept the knives on my side. It worked like a dream. Not the feckin snoring pillow of course- the knives. Not that I used any on his throat - just yet. Just the fear of sleeping next to a sleep deprived, ever so menopausal and ever so slightly deranged woman with a full set of kitchen knives is the thing that keeps him awake. Staying awake equals no snoring!! However, one night recently I realised the knives had disappeared. This was the night I was woken by what I thought was a helicopter landing in my bedroom and turned out twas he, snoring. Knives still yet to be re-located but I strongly suspect he was involved in their disappearance. I tell ye, I should have been in the FBI.

Mines mother said 'well do ye know what I have heard?' Well I guessed. Is it mines husband snoring?'. She never said yay or nay because she is tactful like that. 'What I heard is that ye should sew a tennis ball in the back of his jammies. It be an old wives tale but it works'. So off I went and bought him some jammies. He doesn't own jammies because he likes to sleep as nature intended. Then I went to the sports shop. I had to have a pack of five tennis balls cos that is how they do come. (Not named like the plastic flies I bought to tempt damsels with- just plain un-named tennis balls). £89.99.They had a nifty little tennis racket for free with it. T'was a bargain I thought. I went home and stitched one tennis ball in the back of the jammies (don't ask me how- this ain't a feckin article on sewing -t'was magic). I put them in his drawer. For six feckin weeks they jammies was in the drawer. My mother asked if I done as she suggested. 'Aye,' I said. 'It hasn't worked, the jammies with the tennis ball is still in the drawer'.  'Av ye told him they are there?' she asked. I admitted that I hadn't. 'Maybe this is why tain't working'. Then she suggested I tell him to take them out of the drawer and get him to wear them in the bed. So when I went to bed that night I said ' I have been telling mines mother about the problems we have been having in the bedroom department and I have bought ye a present mines husband'. His eyes lit up. A present to use in the bedroom. Then I produced the jammies with the tennis ball. His enthusiasm for receiving said gift waned immediately.  'I am not wearing feckin jammies to the bed, end of', he said 'it's not natural to wear jammies to the bed'. I snarled at him. 'Look, I been to a great deal of trouble to incorporate sport into your night time routine by including a tennis ball for ye'. Again he said 'I am not wearing jammies to the bed with tennis ball or without'. I was losing patience with him now. 'Now look yer matey,' (cos I call him that sometimes), 'look yer matey' I says, 'jammies are not just for wearing when ye does ye shopping at Asda's you feckin eejit'. But this man wasn't for turning so I donated the jammies to the baffled, bewildered and knackered old codgers home.

Determined not to be beaten by a feckin man and not one to waste tennis balls (I had another four to use)  I had another brainwave. I painted the faces of each of his exes on them (well not all of his exes- I don't have that many tennis balls- just the ones who are on my 'and I can see why you are the ex' list). I got me serious glue, (none of that feckin silly glue) and I put a generous dab on each one and stuck them intermittently down his back whilst he slept like a baby. Fortunately he sleeps on his side so they wouldn't disturb him too much. Yet he still snores like a gun ship mid battle. However, when he starts snoring now I takes me tennis racket and gives each of his balls a good whack. He thinks I am very sporty in bed now. Not only do I get a kick out of whacking one of they ex bitches in the face several times a night I keeps mines husband awake enough to stop his snoring. During the day he looks like the hunchback of Notre dam, but hey its a small price to pay. And looks aren't everything. So they say!