Things to do in the evening when your wife, or sexual partner or whatever is busy keeping her distance:
Drink wine or beer or spirits, smoke a spliff or two and sit in front of the television flicking through the channels at random. Drink some more wine or beer or spirits. Rummage through the contents of the fridge, pick your nose and break wind with impunity. Watch the ten-minute free preview on the Adult Channel. Smoke another spliff, nibble at some processed meat without having to make a sandwich, eat a frozen pizza with your fingers. Leave it until about 1.30 a.m. and go to bed.
Have a dream in which you’re back in your parent’s house drinking beer with your father, whose cancerous tumour is so large that his belly has swelled up so that it looks as if an alien such as the one that burst out John’s Hurt’s stomach is about to emerge. Find yourself using the toilet after he has just used it, the bowl filled with a giant, monster turd: thick and brown and steaming with white tubules of cancerous tumour poking out like giant worms in dog shit.