THE latest research has proved – allegedly – women are better at shopping than men.
This is, of course, rubbish.

They must have accidentally chosen a sample of extraordinarily bright and masculine women and a coincidental batch of hopelessly effeminate men to obtain such a misleading result.

That women like doing the weekly shop is beyond dispute. When that time of the week comes round men are struck with the childhood feeling when informed they could not go out and play football because they had to visit Great Aunt Clara instead.

Trust me ladies, the feeling is best described as: ‘Urrrrrgghh-ohhh’.

It is the female authority thing, only you are now mum. We can’t say: ‘Do I have to?’ as it is wimpy.

But, given the choice, of trailing limply around Tesco behind a woman or doing the shopping themselves, most men would prefer to go it alone. This is because we are actually better at it. We are efficient.

Like the SAS, we go in, get the unpleasant job done and get out. No messing. Family of four, 30 minutes max, barring tailbacks at the till.

Indeed, if we could use stun grenades to get the blasted women out of the way we would do.
But on this issue, for some reason, we remain subservient. It is as if by accompanying a woman we are agreeing she is in charge.

The fruit and vegetable causes particular problems for women. They patrol the aisles like the Queen inspecting the Coldstream Guards.

They take a great deal of time and trouble to choose the best and freshest produce on offer, with which to replace last week’s consignment, now all soft and gooey at the bottom of the fridge.

Meat requires the serious study of an art critic and cuts will be picked up and put down with a tut and a screwed up nose, as if the cow itself was to blame for containing too much fat.

They complete the task in a relaxed manner, as if a speed limit was in force, confusing shopping with browsing all the while.

Strangely women, hopeless with maps, are good at locating higher calorie food and have the same navigational skills as men ‘if there is sufficient motivation to get to a destination’, say the offer of a cream bun.

This, gentlemen, may be the way to get them in and out of the supermarket in record time. Give them a glimpse. It will be like a greyhound with a rabbit giving you just enough time to correct the mistaken impressions of a stray researcher.

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