OK, SO YOUR PREGNANT...

You fool.

One box of Black Magic and three Snowballs over a meal and suddenly the prospect of snotty little Bruce or pooey little Jemima didn't seem such an appalling proposition after all, did it? You agreed - and 20 seconds predictable foreplay, an elbow in the ribs and an attack of cramp later, you're on the way to motherhood. There's only one thing the self-respecting bitch can do now - and that's make the most of it. Men know absolutely nothing about the mechanics of pregnancy, so you'll be able to get away with absolutely anything...

Tell him that it's dangerous for a woman to do absolutely anything once conception has taken place (so he can gather up all the Kleenex for a start and put the duvet back). You should also point out that it's inadvisable for a pregnant woman to sleep in the 'wet patch' - that's how sextuplets happen...

About a week later, tell him you're suffering from strange and irresistible cravings. Skip broccoli and chocolate fudge cake omelets. Instead, have some serious cravings for fur coats and two-week holidays in St. Maartin.

Instantly stop doing anything around the house and quit your job (he'll just have to work overtime and weekends). After all, everyone knows it's dangerous to wake a pregnant woman up before 'Neighbours' starts.

Tell him that it is statistically more likely that the baby will be born with it brain missing if he goes down the pub with his mates during the pregnancy.