The Standard Group Plc is a multi-media organization with investments in media platforms spanning newspaper print operations, television, radio broadcasting, digital and online services. The Standard Group is recognized as a leading multi-media house in Kenya with a key influence in matters of national and international interest.
  • Standard Group Plc HQ Office,
  • The Standard Group Center,Mombasa Road.
  • P.O Box 30080-00100,Nairobi, Kenya.
  • Telephone number: 0203222111, 0719012111
  • Email: [email protected]

There’s a weekend conspiracy by women against husbands

My Man

Agony starts on Friday evening when men — after a week of slavery and toil — try to rush home to their beloved wives and children.

Unfortunately, they are frustrated by a traffic jam because another husband, who was in greater rush to see his pretty wife, drove into a donkey.

This long wait in the jam tires them so, to the extent that when they arrive in their neighbourhoods, they badly need a beer.

But hardly has the husband sat than his phone rings.

“Where are you?” It’s madam.

With the benefit of many years of experience, he doesn’t bother to lie.

“I am on my way,” he says.

She knows he is lying.

By midnight, she has called five times. “Didn’t I say I was coming?” he fumes. She calls thirty minutes later.


He decides he is already in big trouble and switches off his phone. He leaves the bar at 4am. The watchman is sound asleep so he abandons the car in the driveway and laboriously climbs over the gate.

He wakes up all the neighbours because he presses the doorbell with his forehead and blacks out.

He is woken up at 7.30am.

“The neighbour wants to leave and your car is blocking the gate.”

Which idiot goes anywhere at that crazy hour on Saturday morning?

An hour later, when his sleep is getting into gear five, his wife wakes him up again.

“The housegirl wants to wash the bedsheets.”

Would you believe it? The man of the house has to wake up because the househelp says so?

 Sleep on the sofa

He tries to sleep on the sofa and is almost succeeding when the doorbell rings. Why can’t people stay in their homes, he fumes.

It’s a campaign team from Jehovah’s Witness. You can’t throw out people carrying Bibles so he lets them in and spends the next hour wishing his beer fumes would choke them.

When they exit, he tries to go back to sleep but his children, accompanied by all the toddlers on the block, barrel in, commandeer the TV remote and raise the volume to maddening levels again and again.

He summons the youngest. “What’s mummy cooking for lunch?”

 Boiling cabbage

The answer sends him to the bar. His head is crying to be stung back to life with peppered hot soup manufactured from the tail, hooves (firestone), goathead (engine) and bones of a dead cow and she is boiling cabbage?

Not eager to worsen the cold war at home, he’s back for the seven o’clock news. But no one lets him near the TV remote because there is a Nigerian movie running on another channel.

“I’m coming back,” he says as he guiltily sneaks out of the door. Even the children know he is lying.

On Sunday morning, barely an hour after his drunken return, his four-year-old daughter jerks him awake.

“Daa-h-ddy? Mummy she is sa-a-ying? Ati we go to church!”

Related Topics


Similar Articles


Recommended Articles