Sarah Millican’s not a massive fan of the horror genre, whereas her husband loves it to gory death. She offers support to those in a similar situation.
Living with a horror fan is – fun even – provided you take note of the below.
Language This is a prime example of something that happens when you live with a horror fan: I was just on the phone to my husband, the horror fan in question. I rang the landline but it was broken at his end. He spoke to the phone company on his mobile and then reported back to me that the phone line had been cut. I queried that and he said the line was faulty. Those two are very different things. The latter means there’s a technical glitch that a man with a ladder up a pole will fix. The former means there’s a man in the garden who wants to kill us. Very different. Thanks to his love of sci-fi, he also describes people as ‘humans’. “There was a human on the bus”; “Look at that human with the dog”; ”Human, I feel like a woman”.
Decoration Wandering around Home Bargains perving at the multipacks of Lion bars recently, we stopped by the Halloween display, all plastic pumpkins and cardboard skulls. We neither have kids nor open the door to them so it was odd when my fella began browsing. Of course! This is the one time of year when he wants to buy ‘bits for the house’. See pic. He does have some things. A friend stayed recently and slept on the sofa bed but asked if she could turn round the zombie gnome so she could sleep. She hadn’t counted on the skeleton gloves creeping out from behind the cushions or the glow in the dark eyes on the ceiling. When we first moved in together he asked which door he could put his ‘zombie breaking through a door’ poster on. I initially assumed he meant the front door facing outward and thought at least it might help keep the neighbours away.
Films Books, he can keep to himself, although he did once re-tell a short story he’d just read about an evil cat forcing its way into a man’s mouth and then eating its way out of his stomach, just before we went to bed on a romantic holiday. I’ve not said, “You know what would be nice, if we both read to each other a bit” since. Films are harder to avoid. Our general cinema rule is that if we’re going to see a film that one of us WANTS to watch and the other doesn’t, then we have a big starchy dinner first to aid sleep for the bored party. That works. I got two hours kip during The Hobbit and that last hour zipped along nicely. Our old rule was that after any late night horror movie, we’d play with Tickle Me Elmo (bought especially to banish nightmares), but that faltered when after watching a modern remake of The Hills Have Eyes, I dreamt that Elmo was sexually assaulted.
Bedtime My husband is not good at sleeping when it’s light. And I cannot sleep in the dark. (Between them they never licked the platter clean.) Well, not darkness so much as knowing that I may wake up and have no clue if it’s day or night, so we compromise by him wearing a sleep mask of his choosing. I bought him a sleepy panda one which was a joy to wake up to. Then he found this one.
This is what I sleep beside and it still sometimes frightens the shit out of me if it’s close to my face and snoring with meaty morning breath.
So I’m not saying you shouldn’t live with a horror fan; just give him or her their own space to put their plastic Halloween tat and cuddly aliens, eat lasagne and chips before any horror film and maybe face the wall at bedtime.
Sarah Millican is a comedian, writer, reformed workaholic, feminist, cat and dog mam, wife and lover of food.