Its 3am. Dark as the inside of a coal miners pocket. Pishing with rain. And someone is hammering away at the front door.
Man-of-the-house tries to ignore it until the wifes elbowing him in the ribs gets too much and he gets up to see what all the fuss is about.
He opens the door to find a bloke leaning against the door frame, sopping wet from the rain and clearly had more than his fair share of the ale that night.
The pissed bloke gives him a big smile and says 'Evening.' Another big smile. 'Could you give us a push?'
That lights the fuse of the man-of-the-house, and after delivering a solid piece of his mind and some solid drink-driving advice he slams the door and stomps back to bed.
'So what was it then?' says the wife, and he tells her the story.
It goes all quiet and he knows that is not a good sign. 'What about when you broke down last week on the way to that interview and those two nice young lads stepped in and gave you a jump start? What would have happened to you if you'd not been given a helping hand?'
And the moan-a-thon continues until he's had enough and gets up, jumps into some clothes and heads back down the stairs muttering away to himself. Bloody women.
He opens the door, steps out into the road and shouts out into the rain and the dark ' OK, I'll give you a push. Where the hell are you'.
And a little voice pipes up 'In your back garden. On the swing.....'