"That's just like When We Are Married," my husband pointed out, after hearing on the news about the 193 couples who discovered that they weren't really married at all, because the local council in one Essex town had forgotten to renew its marriage licence.

The situation echoes JB Priestley's play, in which three couples discover their wedding vows were meaningless because the parson who performed the ceremonies was not authorised to do so.

"I wonder what they'll all do now?" he added, while clearly pondering what HE would do in that situation.

I doubt he'd be too traumatised. After more than two decades together, including 13 years of wedlock, I certainly couldn't see him splashing on his best after-shave, sashaying towards me, a single rose between his teeth, and descending onto one knee to pop the question a second time.

If, after so long under my thumb, he suddenly found himself a single man again, he would probably feel compelled to make changes. These would probably include going out with the lads more often, making clear to me that he can stay out all night if he wants to.

He would probably feel the urge to discover the joys of table dancing bars and other such features of provincial towns, that in his youth were confined to the back streets of Soho. And, having missed out as a young man, he may try and bluff his way onto an 18-30 holiday.

He may even decide that he wants to set himself free completely and set up home in a converted warehouse with leather sofas and a plasma screen as big as a king-size bed (he'd have one of those too, with black, silk sheets).

I think it is highly likely that he would want to do all of those things - whether or not, in his mid-forties, he would pull them off is debatable. He may feel at odds with himself, for instance, booking an 18-30 break in Kos, while on the mailing list for Saga's cruise brochures.

And he might find himself overwhelmed with exhaustion as early as 10pm, on an all-nighter with the boys. Come to think of it, he may run into problems finding some like-minded boys' of his age.

Seriously, though, it must come as quite a shock to find that you're not actually Mr and Mrs. That you aren't legally bound together. Some couples affected by the Essex blunder - which covers a six-month period three years ago - were so upset that the case as to whether their marriages can be allowed is to go to the High Court.

For those who hate the sight of each other and were about to launch divorce proceedings, the error must come as great news - unless your husband or wife is worth several million, then it's a bit of a blow.

If it did happen to us, I reckon after due consideration, my husband might decide that marriage, with all its turbulence, isn't so bad. He might even buy me another £10 ring from the Cash & Carry.

Me, on the other hand. I'd be off faster than a rat up a drainpipe. I wouldn't waste any time looking for a new fella. My name and number would appear on every dating website and in every newspaper in the northern hemisphere. Only gorgeous blokes with GSOH, LOD (Loads of dosh) and a second home in France need apply', it would say.