I have to calm down on the drinking, I really do. I'm getting too old for this. I can't carry on when I'm tired and it makes me irritable, sickly and uncomfortable. I will not, and no amount of blonde Yorkshire pouting will make me. I jest of course, but I've never understood your irritation with me when I've reached my recognised limits. It's true what they're saying: the two of us living together could become the retirement home old drunks will go to to die. But how would you react if you knew I was considering giving up altogether?