As a result, we end up viewing television programmes like Peep Show, which isn't what you think - it's much, much worse. Two hapless blokes who can't live harmoniously with each other and with opposing philosophies routinely fail at life, that's the premise. And they do it in the most awful, cringe-making way possible. Anyway, the point is, the bloke loves the effect it has on me, which is to make me turn bright red, bury my face in his armpit and whimper until it's over.
This weekend, I finally found something that has the same effect on him. I've been waiting over a year for this, and I may just have to download and keep this to show to him when he's being intolerably English and unflappable.
It was the Women's Institute Guide to Brothels, a programme about a couple of terribly sweet elderly ladies from Hampshire who go around the world in search of the perfect, safe environment for working girls. I spent about half an hour engrossed by it before I realized he was cowering behind me with his eyes covered. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Mmmphmmmishwhmmngish," he said from beneath the pillow. "What?" I repeated. He uncovered his mouth long enough to wail, "My mum is watching this!"*
He refused to emerge until it was over. Not even the moment when one of the girls whipped out her favourite vibrator to demonstrate it to the ladies could tempt him from the sanctuary of the duvet. ("I've never seen one before. Ooh, that's nice!" they said. "Bet she orders three as soon as she gets home," I grinned. "I can't believe my mum is watching this," he blushed.)
* His mother is a WI member.