I was thrown out of my home last night. By my wife. And I'm thankful.

Mrs M decided to do what all self-respecting women do: she hosted a party. Not any party. It was one of those parties where everyone comes along and a company representative tries to sell these women, now alcohol plied, various goods. It's the new Amway. The hostess gets a discount on the goods (or even free goods) depending how much her drunken mates lash out on the merchandise. Last night it was prepared gourmet food. This meant lots of yummy leftovers when I came home. It also presented a golden opportunity to go and join fellow temporary widower and Disneyland inmate D for a night of Playstation and dinner. We could relive our bachelorhood for a little while and pretend hygiene and balanced meals don't matter.

D is an interesting fellow. Despite being a lawyer. He had warned me of two problems with our night last night. Firstly there was his conference call with London at 8pm. Secondly, he's doing the Atkins diet. That's the one that says all fat is good and all carbohydrates are the devil's spawn. So I arrived with all hopes of pizza dashed. Instead I was presented with the night's dinner to be cooked while he was on his call. It was meat. Nothing else. Just meat. Steaks, hamburger patties and some pastrami. D started his call. I cooked it all to perfection. D was still on his call. I ate my share. D continued to negotiate reserves and closings and settlements. I finished my dinner. He finished his call and marked down the 45 minutes it took as billable time. Then he apologised but had to call the client again. No worries I replied as I started on the Playstation. Much placating and re-assuring later, he finally was able to join me. And this was a quick call, according to D. We soon settled into a night of sports, fighting, shooting and car racing, courtesy of the good people at Sony.

And every day I thank God I'm not a lawyer.