in his dreams

Hubby has made it down from the mountains with Dad. He phoned tonight, sounding very, very drunk - but insisting he had only had two beers - and harangued me for half an hour because he had a dream last night in which I apparently copped off with some welsh channel 4 presenter. Tried to explain that I'm not responsible for his overly paranoid subconscious, but he was having none of it. Whilst he was having that dream, I was asleep  at home fully clad in my my fleece and yoga trousers, because it has come pretty darn chilly this week. Looking like that, I'd be unlikely to cop off with David Blunkett, let alone some dishy TV presenter. Hubby said that in the dream he was absolutely livid because I was looking 'fit as you fancy' as well. So it obviously wasn't me he was dreaming about. Ah well, he will have forgotten all about it in the morning after his wild night on the town with Dad...