Nag, Nag, Nag

"What was that for?" he asks.

"That was for the piece of paper in your trouser pocket with the name Mary Ellen written on it," she replies.

"Don't be silly," he says, "Two weeks ago I went to the races. It's the name of one of the horses I bet on."

She seems satisfied and at this, she apologises.

Three days later he's again sitting in his chair reading when she nails him with an even bigger frying pan, knocking him out cold.

When he comes around, he asks again, "What was that for?!"

She responded, "Your f**ing horse phoned."