If I was a house breaker, I wouldn't be for long.
When I sneak about on tippy-toes in my shorty 'jamas each morning, trying to quietly make a cup of tea to gently wake my lovely wife, I manage to find every squeaky floorboard in the kitchen, rendering the blissful peace of sunrise into the soundtrack of Saving Private Ryan.
I have tried clinging to the architraves, sliding my feet on the cold floorboards, mincing like a gay guy on the make (no offence intended to gay guys, who make excellent urology nurses, I have noticed), all to no effect.
My lovely wife doesn't seem to mind, and uses alarum of the rifle-range cacophony to sit up in bed like a princess, gracefully waiting for her tea to be served.
What a great start to the day.
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