His wife comes downstairs on Saturday, asks him if he wants a coffee. He replies that he would like one. She makes it and he sips it and puts The God Delusion down.
"Darling", says the husband, "Do you love me?"
The wife smiles. "Oh funny face, you know how much I love you. Of course I love you, sweetcheeks!"
But the husband isn't smiling. He turns to her, puts his coffee on the table, lights a cigarette and says, "Where's the evidence, cretin?"
"What? Are you mad!? Don't call me that!" says the wife, "Why on earth do you need evidence?"
"Because I do. I need evidence in order to believe something," he says, "People who don't believe things without evidence are sky-fairy myth fairytale tossers with no brain".
"Well," she smiles, "I'd have thought last night would be some evidence, wouldn't you, hey?"
He replies, "You could have been faking it. I need hard, empirical, scientific evidence."
"I can't give you hard, empirical, scientific evidence! What's gotten into you?!"
"I need evidence", he repeats.
"Well you'll have to trust me," says the wife.
"Trust you. I can't!" says the husband. "How can I trust you without evidence?"
"Oh for ****s sake! What's going on? I married you didn't I, isn't that evidence enough for you?!" she says exasperated.
"You could have loved me that day and maybe I believed it then, but now I need proof. Do you love me?"
"Yes, of course I do" she replies, "We've only weeks got back from our honeymoon. We're happy, aren't we?" she says, tears rolling down her cheek.
"We were, but now I need evidence," he replies, coldly.
She sobs, "I don't know what to say. I don't know what kind of evidence you need. I love you, darling, that's all I can say. Why is what I tell you not enough for you? All I can do is tell you that I love you and try and show you how much I love you. I'd do anything for you. I'd die for you if I had to! You have to take it on faith."
The man stares with eyes fixed upon his wife, "Faith? What kind of irrational creature do you think I am?! Evidence, bitch. Come on, I need it now."
The wife runs upstairs, shouting, "You've gone mad! You're insane!"
"I'm insane?! I'm insane!? It's you who can't provide the evidence!" he retorts.
His wife's tears turn to anger as she returns with a suitcase. "I'm going to stay with mummy in Shropshire and maybe, maybe if you sort yourself and snap out of this 'evidence' garbage I'll consider coming back. Who do you think you are anyway, calling me a cretin!?"
Quickly, she grabs her keys, takes her handbag with her suitcase with her and goes out, slamming the door behind leaving only the sound of her fading footsteps behind her.
"See," says the husband, as he takes a drag on his cigarette, "I knew she didn't love me...Now, what page was I on...?"