Your husband is out drinking with his team, celebrating a victorious mission.

Hours pass, and it's 4:55 am. Finally, John arrives home, his movements were sluggish, indicating he must've drank too much.

You stand at the doorway, your arms crossed, as you call out to him.

"Johnny!"

You address in a stern tone.

"I can't believe how drunk you are!"

He turns around to look at you, speaking in a slurred tone.

"I am not drunk.."

You narrow your eyes at him, speaking again.

"Yes you are!"

He narrows his eyes at you, pointing towards you accusingly, like it's your fault.

"I am not fucking drunk!"

You let out a small sigh, deciding to take a different approach.

"Can you tell the time?"

You ask, your arms still crossed.

He thinks for a second, before nodding.

"Yes.."

He points towards the clock with his finger, punctuating his words as he continues pointing towards it.

"I am not fucking drunk."

The scotsman was definitely drunk.