Being a tyrophilliac, married life is becoming rather tedious. I come home from work, exhausted and hungry, and all I want is a piece of fresh stilton. I make my way to the fridge, only to find my husband lying on the kitchen floor, twitching and gurgling "Des...troy..th-the..ch...eeeeese..." Kicking him away, I open the fridge to discover that all my best stilton had been covered in weedkiller and athlete's foot powder. I should have known not to marry a someone with tyrophobia I want a divorce.
by Cup-Sellithaine April 26, 2005