Blogger won't let me put a fucking title on. Great. That will really piss people off. Especially that googler who got here with the search terms put the big lad in my arse. He might be getting a little bit impatient. His next search might be okay then, how about if I put my much bigger lad in your arse?

Nevertheless, this is:

The Ballad Of Lad Litter And TLOML VI

Are you with me?

If you are, congratulations on your attention span and thanks for hanging in there. Six long episodes to tell a tale that took only a few short weeks to unfold. But then again, as love stories go, it has a raven-tressed heroine, and a moronic hero. A Byronic hero. That was what I meant to say.

We’ve been together for just over twenty years now, and married for the past eighteen of them. Moe, Larry & Curly round things out nicely for us and we are, to borrow from the latest Smith’s crisps jingle, happy together.

The course of our true love hasn’t always run smoothly and there have probably been three occasions when we might have parted ways, two when we were dating and one early in our marriage. I imagine most others could tell a similar tale.

But here’s what’s happening in our world:

1) I have the hots for TLOML, in pretty much the same way I did when I first laid eyes on her. If anything, the feeling might be stronger now;

2) We make each other laugh at our own expense. Foibles and idiosyncrasies are grist to our humour mill;

3) She is incredibly supportive and understanding, sometimes when I don’t deserve it;

4) I get a big kick out of being acknowledged as her husband. Like when I’m introduced to someone who has met her but not me and they say “Oh, you’re TLOML’s husband!” I’m told my voice drops a tone and a half and one eyebrow lifts about a centimetre when I reply, “Yes. Yes, I am.”;

5) We seem to agree and disagree in a fairly balanced way. Enough of the former to make things go smoothly, and enough of the latter to make things interesting and challenge our outlooks;

6) We both believe we are lucky, and tell each other so. No, not just during sex, at regular times too. Alright, those regular times are usually before sex, but that’s no coincidence.

7) She is often contemptuous of my interests so I don’t get too big for my boots. But then, she’ll make sure that I get new cricket pants when I need them, or Martin Scorsese’s Bob Dylan doco No Direction Home for Christmas;

Alright, so did I have a point to make? Is there anything from this sweeping saga that anyone could actually learn from or use in their own life? I doubt it. There’s no moral to the story as such, beyond a series of vague guiding principles that would have very limited application for anyone else.

But I’m going to have a crack at it anyway.

And so, coming soon, to conclude this series will be:

The Ballad of Lad Litter and TLOML VII:
Against All Odds – Lad Litter’s Guide To Winning A Woman™