October 16, 2014 by Writing Campus
I canna be sure, but I think my husband is being unfaithful to me. He comes home smellin’ of other women and with a rumpled kilt. One night, he had fastened his plaid on the other side from when he left in the mornin’! I canna leave him – we’ve got three bairns, after all – but I also canna be married to a philanderin’ gob. Highlander, what should I do?
Rupert: Weel, lass, ye’re in a bit of trauchle. Wi’ the wains, ye’ve no much of an easy way. I’m no convinced he’s cheatin’ though. My mam told me that if a man starts carin’ how he looks when he’s been a fat lummox for years, that’s when ye ken he’s followin’ a new mare about the pasture. I askit an expert on matters of marital bliss, Father Bain, about how the Almighty would advise a woman in your situation. He said, “According to the most virtuous of all apostles, St. Paul, ‘It is good for a man not to touch a woman. But for fear of fornication, let every man have his own wife.’ Paul says, ‘The wife hath not power of her own body,’ so ye must pray together ‘lest,’ as St. Paul says, ‘Satan tempt you for your incontinency.’” I dinna ken exactly what that means, but St. Paul is an authority in these matters, but I think it means that your husband canna hold his piss.
Angus: Lassie, there be only a few reasons why a husband would stray from yer bed. Hae ye got fat recently? Or, mayhap ye havena been shaggin’ his sheep – if ye ken what I mean – as often as ye could? A man is like to be rubbin’ his knob whenever he can, and if he can get someone to do it for him, weel, all the better. So, gie yer man a quick reach under the kilt, and win him back to yer bed. Trollop on the side or no, he’s got ye makin’ his breakfast. Between a meal and a quick hochmagandy on the table before lunch, ye’ll have him back to ye in no time.