Madame B

So, thoughts/suggestions as to where Madame B has gone on holiday this week? The Eden Project? (Remember her partner is a gardener and therefore probably some sort of eco warrior.) The Maldives? (As paid for by her Dad who dislikes the gardener, and is trying to get his daughter to get accustomed to a life style the gardener can't afford.) Outside my flat? (For a week of concerted stalking.) Scotland? (To annoy her Dad, and pacify the gardener.) A darkened car park in The New Forest? (She sounds like a bit of a dogger to me.)

Actually, I have a new theory - well a theory as suggested by someone else that I am now taking as my own - that Madame B is not a woman, and is in fact A.N. Other male commenter to hhn who enjoys pretending to be a vulgar woman. I'm thinking it could be The Waunch (who likes a good bit of writing) or maybe blokewhohascreatedthemadamebpersona.

If Madame B is also someone else, then that takes my actual readership of six on Friday down to five with the double entry. Five? One less than six, and two less than seven (which would at least have given me the excuse to sing that Prince song).

Speaking of readers, I am sorry to report that mrs househusbandnot is no longer a regular reader of hhn. She thinks my observations about the real world not that I am back out in it are not as fun as the vacuum stuff I did at home. Sad but true.

In other news, is it only me who has recognised the striking similarity between Michael Vaughan and the lead singer of Muse?

Six?

Just checked the site meter, and six of you have read househusbandnot since yesterday. Six? Six? I know it is about to be a bank holiday here in the UK, and that some of you may have lost interest since I failed over the last few weeks to post every week day. But six? The guys who leave their mobile phone numbers scrawled on public loo doors get more responses than that? Paul Burrel has more friends than that. Six is not even near 10, or anywhere near the respectable number of visitors I normally get here at hhn. Six? I should not have bothered even getting out of bed to blog yesterday. I am deeply insulted, and sad because a lot of this is of my own making not blogging every day, which is how the number of visitors was gradually increasing. Six? It only just shows up on the bar chart graphic for the site meter. Six? I almost have that many siblings. (And surely Madame B checks hhn a few more times than that during the day?) Six is fewer than the pieces of sushi you get from Pret A Manger. Six could be scored with the flick of an artful wrist in cricket. Six pence buys you nothing. Six lengths of the pool? I think it would take about three minutes. Six reward points in Cafe Nero doesn't even get you that close to your free reward coffee. Six? Not even one a week. Six is only two more than the number of Prince tickets I have. Six is very very sad (somehow sadder than none or one or five). Was it the holiday snaps that put you off? (I was trying to be ironic btw.) Was it the complaining about nothing to write about? (An entirely valid reason for switching off from hhn I grant you.) Was it something I said/didn't say? I guess I will never know because you have abandoned me to more worthwhile web pursuits. Good luck with Googling yourself and trying to avoid buying Viagra and reading stuff other than hhn. (Six? I am going to go and eat six muffins to console myself.)

I will return next week, and will look forward to talking to all remaining SIX of you.