WE were whooping and squealing and almost breathless with joy. You would think we had just discovered the meaning of life or, at the very least, George Clooney's private phone number. But it was nothing as trivial and inconsequential as that.

The reason for our unrestrained joy was an Aldi bag full of bargains.

For those of the male persuasion this will probably mean nothing. Men don't get bargains; never have, never shall.

But I bet those among you who rejoice in being female flavoured will already be feeling that familiar tingle of anticipation.

A bargain? The hairs on the back of your neck prick up at the mere mention of the word, don't they? Even when it is something as seemingly mundane as a packet of chocolate chip cookies from Aldi.

But these were no ordinary cookies. These were luxury cookies in fancy packaging with big, fat chunks of chocolate squished generously into their sweet, crunchy biscuity base. And they were only 49p!

Come on, admit it. You're already in the car and heading to the shops, aren't you? The man in your life is looking at you as if you've just lost your few remaining marbles down the back of the sofa, but you don't care. You can hear the call of the bargains and it is a call that will not be ignored.

I know because I am one of you. I love a bargain. Bagging a bag, a jacket or a pair of boots I have been coveting from afar for half price makes me want to explode with joy.

But it's not just the big bargains I love, I get just as much of a high from a two for the price of one deal at Iceland. When it had its "buy your fish and get your chips for free" offer on last month, I was so excited I had to be brought round with smelling salts at the till.

In my experience, however, men just don't get bargains. They always pull that face - you know the one I mean, like they've just been slapped round the chops with a maggot-riddled mackerel - and question whether we actually need another bag/sofa/truckload of frozen chips.

They don't seem to understand that "need" has nothing to do with it.

We don't need 27 sports channels; we don't need a telly the size of a number 13 bus; and we certainly don't need iPods and digiboxes and all the other bleeping, flashing gadgetry men can't seem to live without. 'Need' is not part of the equation.

And it's not just bargains men don't seem to get. Wine, chocolate and soaps leave them floundering too.

Men spoil wine by taking it too seriously. They want to study it and dissect it, picking away at its component parts like a cat worrying a mouse.

Women on the other hand like a pretty label, a bargain (three for a tenner at Tesco - hurrah!) and something fresh and fruity to tickle their taste buds as they veg out in front of Desperate Housewives.

It's the same with chocolate. My other half can treat himself to a slab of Green & Black and make it last a whole week. He rations himself to two or three chunks a night and leaves the rest of it to torment me in the fridge. Chocolate is not for saving, it's for scoffing!

And don't get me started on soaps. If men don't want to watch Corrie or EastEnders, that's fine. But why do they have to mutter and grumble all the way through them; and why, if they are so disinterested, do they always have to interrupt to ask who a character is and why they are burying a close family member under the patio?

I don't know about you, but I've now taken to watching soaps in the privacy of my boudoir... with a glass of cheap and cheerful chardonnay in one hand, a Ferrero Rocher in the other and a Netto leaflet on my lap.

Updated: 08:47 Monday, March 14, 2005