You see, my way of dealing with marrying Corbyn is to send him off to the allotment (while I briefly snog Hunt), and by the time Corbyn has dug over a few rods and perches and chains ( see how up to date I am with allotment terminology), and planted all my winter veg, harvested what I need, made soup with it, picked fruit and made jam.....then he will just be glad of a kind word and a cup of tea ( and maybe a lecture on where he has gone wrong to bore him to sleep). Oh, and he can knit me a nice Fairisle sweater for the winter before he drops off. So, that's him sorted without any 'unpleasantness'.