"Ready for some roleplay, babe?" said Peter. "I sure am, hubs," said his wife.
"I'll be the farmer, and you're my Friesian cow." "Erm, okay. If you like."
Peter picked up a cattle prod. "Come on, Daisy. Into the milking shed with you." He chased his wife around the bedroom and zapped her with the prod.
"Jeezuz Christ! That bloody hurt! You can cut that malarkey out!"
"You don't like it?" said Peter. "No, I don't. What next, a freakin' branding iron?"
"Yes, actually, I've got one warming on the gas ring in the kitchen." "You're kidding me, right? RIGHT?!"