Secret liason in outfitters cubicle.

My fourth and last wife had the intelligence and wit of a simple minded gold fish. Physically she was quite, quite wonderful, but sadly intellectually she was a cretin. An absurdly vacant dullard ! A chump ! A buffoon ! A bally simpleton !
This lack of brain power did not fortunately hamper her career as a television chef. Reading from cue cards she would articulately explain to the nations housewives how to cook the most sophisticated recipes. To the television oggling general public she was a smiling ray of sunshine who educated thier plebian pallette. The world at large considered her to a glamouress national treasure, I tolerated her vacant minded dullness because of her beauty and staggering sexual appertite.
Beauty can only hold its allure for so long. When our third child was born she suffered badly with post natal depression and as a consequence our sex life stopped abruptly. Only then did her dense personality begin to annoy and exasperate me. She would spend all day weeping, rocking back and forth, talking gibberish, unable to make even the most rudimentry of logical conversations. Her television career was put on hold until she recovered.
I turned for company and sought solace with the manageress of my favourite gentlemans outfitters. It just happened.
We embarked upon a whirlwind affair. Every afternoon I would leave my gibbering distraught wife and visit my mistress.
We would have intimate relations in one of the changing cubicles and then I would return home.
All was well until one afternoon whilst engaged in an act of love making with my mistress, I was secretly photographed by a reporter from a tabloid newspaper. The gutter press caught me in the act !
The rest is history. Divorce, alimony, child maintenance and my reputation once again in tatters.
She went on to recover from her depression and resume her highly successful television career.

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One nil to Lord Dimblem !