The Tammy Wynette original has one of those gimmicks so deathless that every songwriter in Nashville must have wished they’d hit on it first. Connolly’s parody skewers it without sneering at it, and a lot of the spelling-out fun is just carried over from the source. It doesn’t have a great deal of replay value but it makes me smile, which is as much as you can reasonably ask of it.
In a way its gentleness surprises me – Connolly had a playground reputation for unbridled filth, the kind of comedian wicked older brothers would own albums by: I didn’t have an older brother so I never got to confirm or deny it. Surely “D.I.V.O.R.C.E.” wasn’t this clean live? Of course he wouldn’t have been allowed any more than the bleeps he gets, but anyhow this works better clean – an affectionate pastiche rather than a dunk in the gutter.