Henry

Henry was a simple man at heart. He ate well, drank a fair bit and
liked the odd bit of porn now and again. But he had a problem. His
problem was his wife Hilda. Hilda was a dragon. Not in the traditional
sense of the word of course - she didn't live on a remote mountain
surrounded by trinkets - but she did breath fire and she was always
angry. She got angry if Henry got dust on the sofa. She got angry if
Henry spoke when her cousin Iris was round. And she got angry if Henry
didn't heat her bathwater to exactly 68 degrees, and if it wasn't
exactly 12 inches deep at exactly 7.33pm. So one day Henry killed her.
He waited for her to get home from Tesco's and he clubbed her round the
head with a frozen leg of lamb. Then he cooked the lamb and ate it in
front of Catchphrase on the tv. Hilda had hated Catchphrase, but even
dragons fall down if you hit them hard enough with a frozen leg of
lamb.