I told my wife, my ex-wife now, no tacky Roman god is ruining my ultra-modern glass and steel house. You know what she said? Honey, this time I want a home, not an Apple store.
Obviously she’s not the one with the architecture degree. But she got in the ear of the builder, and more besides it turned out. When I checked in at the construction site there was a bloody Juliet balcony held up by faux-classical corbels and a Mercury head.
But my mercury exploded when she engraved my signature on the window underneath so everyone would think I was responsible.
(with apologies to Al Forbes)