IF LITTLE girls are supposed to be sugar and spice and all things nice, how come they are so disgusting these days?

I was brought up to revere girls - by a woman, with a little mild guidance from my dad - and I have devoted a large part of my life to doing just that, as often and with as many as possible.

But lately they have been losing their charm - and manners, and couth.

Our story last week about a report which identified girls in York schools as a bigger headache than boys, as the aggressors and cause of trouble, was the tip of the iceberg. Modern girls can be such scruffy, loudmouthed, drunken, violent slobs.

Is this what the suffragettes chained themselves to the walls for? Or were they just kinky types ahead of their time who enjoyed public bondage?

When I were a lad, women would be happy to be dragged kicking and screaming to the pub to sit demurely all night with a port and lemon while their husbands took care of the serious business of drinking - and paying.

Nowadays, the lasses elbow you out of the way at the bar fuelled for a fight on 17 vodka kicks. Xena, Warrior Princess eat your heart out. They greedily eye the talent, commenting lewdly on some young buck's physical attributes and usually make the first move. Neither are they above touching buttocks, while men would be arrested and jailed for the same offence.

They put every barman's job in jeopardy because when they are dressed to kill and out for a thrill, even the 14-year-olds can look 27. Who would dare refuse to serve them their high-octane cocktails?

Why can't we just put the world back on its proper axis and return to the natural order of things, where the female of the species is subservient, knows that her true place is in the home and her role in life is just to keep a man happy?

And another thing, the graffiti in the Ladies is far more obscene than that in the Gents (a pub landlord told me, honest). It's cleverer, too. In one York pub ladies loo, a tortured soul had scrawled on the wall: 'My mother made me a lesbian.' Some wit had added: 'If I get her the wool, will she make me one?' And women steal the toilet rolls and carry them off in their handbags.

OK, it is not only York that has these problems with unruly women who think they are equal to men. In that salubrious neighbouring town of Doncaster, everybody pushing a pram is 14, covered from head to toe in tattoos and has a ring or stud in every orifice. Each sentence is punctuated at least four times with the 'eff' word and it is always loudly proclaimed. Mind you, it's worth a trip just for the cheap shopping and the weirdoes on every corner.

Perhaps this loss of female pride is a British thing. In Amsterdam, I saw a teenage girl offer her tram seat to an elderly lady. In Greece, the girls on their waterfront promenade are beautifully dressed in what could pass for Chanel or Gucci and you never hear them swear. At least I don't think they swear. I wouldn't know the Greek for "up yours, mister" if Archimedes translated it for me.

And in Barbados, girls of all ages are immaculately turned out, even though many live in shacks with no running water and have to do their ablutions in the sea.

It can be annoying, however, if you are staying in a beachside hotel to hear entire families laughing and screaming, shampooing and soaping in the cool sea at 6am when you are trying to sleep off last night's rum.

It could be the harsh legal system in that old British outpost that keeps them smart and well behaved. The courts are really tough over there. I once picked up a Barbados newspaper and read an amazing story about a young bus conductor who pleaded guilty to giving a false name to a police officer. He was sentenced to one hundred lines: "I must not tell lies to the police."

Strict, eh?

Enough of my traveller's tales, we'll probably not get as far as a wet weekend in Mablethorpe this year. Wonder what the girls are like there?

Updated: 11:07 Tuesday, June 22, 2004