The Phone Trap!

Having gone on an office night out a few weeks ago smelling of Hugo Boss and returning smelling of Elizabeth Arden’s Provocative Woman, my wife was understandably a little suspicious - not that she mentioned it.

Given that she had recently been on an 'Mums night out' into town and returned at 3am from a club that closes at 12.30am, I was sure she wouldn’t question me in case it turned into a battle of denials and white lies about where we were and who we were with. Now, her delayed return could have been as innocent as visiting Arash at the Kebab shop and purchasing a large Doner and chips-who knows?

It’s been more uncomfortable than normal of late and apart from the surprise tongue interrogation from Jenny on the office night out, there is no need for my wife to be suspicious. After all, the curious slobbering mouth-to-mouth action was instigated by Jenny not me. I was happily drip-feeding watered down nightclub whisky into my arm when I was caught by surprise. I was the receiver not the giver, which in my book makes me the innocent party.

So, my mobile is being subject to external observation. Someone is reading my texts. How do I know? Having become suspicious of my phone moving around the house without any physical contact from myself, I quickly discounted a deceased ex 'Phones4U' poltergeist and put the blame firmly at the voluntarily celibate bedroom door of my wife.

Obviously my technique at reading texts was technically superior to hers, and if she was going to tamper with my mobile, she could have made it a little less obvious.

My plan to catch her out came to me while sat reading the 'Sunday Sport', a paper I had stopped reading when the Broadsheets had reduced to such a size that I could no longer hide it inside the Guardian while leaving the newsagents. My brother, a plumber by trade, left it at my house. He was fixing a bathroom leak, being in the building trade it was obligatory to have a copy on the dashboard of his van, along with a half eaten sausage roll.

Here is the plan. If I receive a text, the first few words of the texts appear before you open the message. Therefore, If I had a text saying, “Meet me later for a threesome big boy” my phone would show, ‘Meet me f…….’ And of course I would open it, read the full message, and reply that I was busy washing my hair. Most importantly, I know if the text had been read because the little envelope is open.

So, I sent a text to myself. Upon looking at the text messages on my phone it read: “I miss yo…..”. Perfect. I left the phone on the mantelpiece in the Lounge and drove to the local shop giving my wife an opportunity from heaven to inspect it.

Returning later, I took the phone and looked at the little envelope. It was open. The text read: “I miss you reading my texts only once a week, why don’t you try it everyday instead!".


  1. haha awesome.. Now thats what you call BUSTED BITCH!

  2. Anonymous14:35

    that is what I call a fried ass husband. his stupid ass porn making cheating ass is just a dickless piece of shit. I truley mean a dickless piece of shit that has no motivation and would not be able to get a decent lady with no money!!!!!!! Ugly as fuck too!

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