Sporting unkempt hair, one married lady commented: ‘I was only making an effort, on the off chance that George would make a booty call. It’s baggy t-shirts and unrestrained farting from now on. I’ve even started using the cat’s litter tray’.
Her husband admitted: ‘I didn’t know that it was George Clooney who was holding this fragile marriage together. My wife is now just curled up in a foetal position with a bottle of cheap cider, full fat ice cream and all the pork scratchings she could find’.
An eminent Psychologist commented: ‘It’s almost as if they (women) are past caring. Drinking from the carton, eating beans from the can, weeping into copies of Heat magazine... next stop – ‘frumpville’. A similar thing happened to men when Jose Mourinho first left Chelsea.’