As a young boy I was completely spoiled by my doting parents (possibly due to the hardships they both had faced in their younger days) the result of which gave me leave to occupy my time frivolously.
As a young man, I was introduced into the appropriate social circles and met my charming wife who, by virtue of the fact that she is from a wealthy background, proceeded to complete the task initiated by my doting parents and rounded off my cosseted existence nicely by resisting any attempts I made to provide for her.
My mother is very proud of me BUT my father is not so well pleased with my progress, he had visions of me becoming a politician (God Forbid) or some other highly respected (God knows who can respect politicians) profession.
I do love to get him at it, he is so easy to wind up (not as easy as Feisty) and I manoeuvred him into a conversation relative to my earthly progress, knowing full well what his reaction would be to the plot I had in mind.
Having directed him to his favourite chair, propped his cushion gently behind him, allowed him time to blast up his Cap'n Peterson pipe, handed him a well filled glass af brandy and watched him relax, I broached his pet subject with some alacrity.
He immediately took the bait and asked me directly what were my intentions for the future.
"Father" said I, "When I was a young boy, my childhood dream was to become a CHIMNEY SWEEP ! but I knew you would never sanction such an ambition and I have lived with the failure ever since"
For an old man of his age, I must say he was a credit to the Olympian high jumpers, he sprang out of his chair, brandy and pipe dross everywhere, eyes boggling with rage............Until............ he recognized the humour displayed in my eyes.
He threw his arms around me and tears began to stream down his face as he broke into a laughter that was a joy to see, "Son" said he, "If ever I see you with a sweeping brush in your hands, I swear I will kill you !".
Thus, for fear of my Father's vengeance, I am forever condemned to live this life of complete leisure, unable to lift one finger in order to assist my charming wife who understands me completely.
Such is my fate, my boyhood ambitions a mere memory, ah well, glass of champers and a snout, "That's Better !"