THIS isn't easy to write about. I've just hit 40, which is bad enough in itself, but to make matters worse, there's a new man in my wife's life. In fact, there are two.

The first is called George - George Clooney - and it's all my own fault.

You see, I forgot to buy her a card for Valentine's Day so, a day late, I had considerable ground to make up. Flowers wouldn't have been nearly enough so, in desperation, I bought her a framed picture of George Clooney, who is supposedly quite handsome.

I hadn't reckoned on where she would put him - she's fixed him to the underside of a fitted cupboard which overhangs our bed so she looks up at him when she wakes up.

To say it's off-putting is an understatement. I was feeling a bit romantic the other day and tried my luck with a Sunday morning cuddle when I suddenly realised she was looking up at George and he was looking down at me. The moment was lost. I just hadn't prepared myself for sharing a bedroom with George Clooney. I've tried telling her that he's clearly gay but she's having none of it.

The other 'new man' in her life is probably an even bigger threat. He's called Max and he's just made it to five. He's our youngest and he's obsessed with his mum.

Oedipus has nothing on this boy. He tells her she's beautiful and jumps into bed with her at any opportunity.

You can guarantee that he'll come in for a cuddle first thing in the morning and I get totally ignored as they smooch and giggle the morning away under gorgeous George's watchful gaze.

He calls her 'my lovely Mummy' and she calls him her 'big chubberoo.' I know - it's sickening, isn't it?

"Mum, can we go upstairs for a little snuggle?" he asked her at 2pm on Saturday. She went all doe-eyed, swept him up in her arms and off they went, leaving me to cut the grass.

The following day, I tried to copy his tactic. Wearing my best 'little boy lost' look, I popped the same question: "Can we go upstairs for a little snuggle?" I was even prepared to turn a blind eye to George. I wouldn't even have minded if she'd called me her big chubberoo.

There was a time she'd have gone all doe-eyed over me, but she didn't: "I have to do the lunch," she replied without a second thought.

Now Max has decided he's going to marry her when he grows up. "What about Daddy?" she asked, displaying rare consideration for the other bloke in her life. Max thought hard: "He can marry Sophie and live somewhere else."

"Who's Sophie?" I inquired.

"She's in my class," he said, matter-of-factly. I don't even know if Sophie's my type but I've decided there's no point fighting it. It's even reached the point where hes planning for my death. Knowing full well I'm allergic to cats, he turned to his mum the other day and said:

"When Daddy dies and we're married, we can get a cat, can't we?"

There's absolutely nothing I can do about Max - he'll hopefully grow out of it before I die and the cat moves in.

But I'm not at all sure my wife will grow out of the other fella so I might just have to draw a moustache and thick-rimmed glasses on him.

P.S. George Clooney is 41 in June.