I don't watch much TV these days, it keeps reminding me that it's partly my fault our country is in such a mess. I'm not spending enough money to fuel our economy and when I do spend my only reward is a warning to save more to finance my old age.

The newsreader says I'm using far too much electricity, oil and water, I also eat the wrong things and drink far too much alcohol in the evenings. I'm so useless I can't even dispose of my rubbish correctly and if I take a walk along the beach I'm told my presence will only pollute it.

Where can I begin to help put things right?

How can I save the economy and the environment?

The answer is I can't, not as things stand. The big social economy is doomed to years of stagflation and the elite who've grown fat on it should kiss good-bye to swilling champagne at their banquets. They preach austerity to me and my family, yet there's no sign of them setting an example. We're more than happy with tea and sandwiches and so should they be, seeing as they claim to be so concerned about our nation's diminishing resources.

When I say "tea and sandwiches" I mean it quite literally, my husband now takes a lunchbox to work and we save almost two pounds in money every day. Our base costs have contracted and we've already noticed the benefits - which are far more than merely financial.

I see making his sandwiches as an act of my submissive devotion, a simple ceremony that helps confirm my commitment to our marriage. Which is fine, I can still claim to be a feminist because everything balances out in our relationship. I'm no doormat, he has to earn my affection and not just take it for granted or selfishly demand it.

He likes my cheese and onion sandwiches the best. I make them in the evening so I can devote as much time as is necessary to meet my own high standards. I start by finely chopping a sweet Spanish onion into a nice juicy pulp. Next I grate the cheese, a mature Irish cheddar is his favorite, and then I mix the two main ingredients before adding a big dollop of Hellmann's mayonnaise.

He noticed when I switched to low fat, but he accepted my reasoning and his taste soon adapted to the healthier option. I want to keep him trim and fit for the fight of supporting his family and satisfying my simple needs. To encourage him along I sometimes put a little note in with his sandwiches, a few loving words from Miss Honeypot to tease and excite Mr Beefy... we like playing those kinds of games.

My sandwiches are a big success and my husband's colleagues have acknowledged it. I know this for sure because Dopey Derek complimented me on my cheese and onion filling. I was flattered at first, but then I realized my husband had offered to share his lunch with his best friend and I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

"We swapped a sandwich," my husband confessed.

Swapped a sandwich? Why, and for how long had this been going on? Was he bored with my sandwiches already? Thankfully, I had the perfect advisor, my clever sister knew what to do.

"You need to vary your sandwiches more," she told me. "Try something adventurous and surprise him when he opens his lunchbox."

"Surprise him?" I asked her. "What with?"

"Chicken tikka maybe, or prawn salad."

"I tried prawns once. He doesn't like fishy sandwiches."

"Chicken tikka it is then."

"I was hoping to keep the cost down," I reminded her.

"Not always, just often enough to stop him checking out the other guys' sandwiches."

I knew she was right and determined to follow her advice. I sacrificed my economic principles and bought a ready-made chicken tikka filling the very next day. It was frightfully expensive but I looked upon it as a strategic investment in my man.

The results were astonishing.

"Oh, Mr Beefy, look what you've done to Miss Honeypot."

Not that I minded such a passionate response, I was delighted to see him so excited about his sandwiches. I think my saucy little note may have helped, together with my other investment from the lingerie shop. The newsreader did say that I needed to stimulate growth, so I didn't feel too guilty speculating on naughty frillies.

Of course my husband doesn't expect chicken tikka every day, that would be unreasonably demanding and extravagant. But we both want to experiment with the contents of his lunchbox and these days I feel confident enough not to feel threatened if he does swap the odd sandwich now and then.

I know my cheese and onion is still the best. It's become the bedrock of our marriage.

The End