You know, I was using the sparkling husband primitive as a Freudian exercise--had (still have) all the textbooks, supplementals, checklists, whatnot--but then I dropped the idea; I got so far, and didn't want to go any deeper.
The sparkling husband primitive is one sick ****.
The sparkling husband primitive is actually a drek primitive, but was spared those depths when he happened to mention his sharing the bathroom in the basement with the family cat, and suddenly forevermore the sparkling husband primitive is embedded in this mind as not a drek primitive, but a bottom-of-the-barrel primitive, one step above that, as a comic figure morosely sitting on the porcelain throne in the bathroom in the basement, his elbows on his knees, glumly watching the cat across the room do a big number two in the litter-box.
May God forgive me, but whenever I see the sparkling husband primitive on Skins's island, this image immediately comes to mind, and there is nothing one can do about it other than accept, adapt, and move on.