We're so different

Bet that made you drop your Horlicks in a hurry (you'll be picking those funny little brown bits of whatever non-biodegradable material this strange beverage is made of out of the seams of your cardie for weeks).

I know it is a massive revelation to spring on you on an otherwise tepid Tuesday, but it's true. The sexes may be closer than ever, thanks to modern men discovering their feminine side (it was under the sofa next to the missus' G-spot all the time) and ladies becoming beer-swilling, bum-pinching ladettes, but we are still not quite at the single gender stage just yet.

Thank goodness. It is our differences that make life worth living, that make every day a bit of an adventure and that make it possible for people like me to make a living out of criticising, poking fun at and musing on the mysteries of folk of the opposite flavour.

Unfortunately, however, some people don't see it that way. And, even more unfortunately for the sane majority, a few of these loons actually represent us in Parliament. It might seem a tad extreme to label this handful of misguided women as loons, but I'm afraid lunacy is the only explanation. I mean, who in their right mind actually requests testosterone injections?

They apparently believe that shooting up with man juice will make them more effective MPs, allowing them to keep up with the rigorous pace of the House and make their arguments in a more forceful, macho manner.

Told you - every last one a loon.

Why on earth do they want to join the braying herd of male MPs who seem happy to sacrifice their home life to yell nonsense at each other across the floor of the chamber? Why don't they celebrate their womanliness instead and use their natural negotiating, multi-tasking and organisational skills to make the Commons a more feminine environment, where things get done with the minimum of fuss, fury and chest-beating?

In America, Hillary Clinton was pilloried by the right for feminising politics during her time as First Lady when in fact she was simply humanising the debate. She proudly described Democratic Party issues as "kitchen table issues" - issues discussed by families over a hot meal at the end of a hard day and not issues torn apart in a political bull ring by a bunch of old bullocks.

Now, forgive me if I am wrong, but I don't believe that anyone could ever accuse Senator Clinton of being an ineffectual politician. Love her or loathe her, you have to admit she is a force to be reckoned with. And she has done it all without sacrificing her femininity.

British women should follow her example and pass on the testosterone injections. Maybe they could even pass them on to those more in need - like Tony Blair and his increasingly ineffectual Cabinet.

WHENEVER you see a film set in a mental hospital, such as the classic One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, there is always at least one character who sits and rocks backwards and forwards all day every day. Until recently I had assumed that this person was supposed to be in a deep depression or perhaps in desperate inner turmoil. But now I know the truth.

The rocking loon is a new mum. I should know, I spend half my life swaying rhythmically to and fro (and the other half trying to explain to a four year old why the words "poo" and "bum" are not big and not clever).

I don't know what it is about having a baby that makes you rock - maybe the strain of childbirth does something peculiar to your inner ear - but everyone does it. There is a whole herd of us in the school playground, gently jiggling our buggies back and forth or slowly sashaying around with a tiddler on our hips.

After a while it becomes nothing short of an obsessive compulsive disorder. I discovered this for myself the last time I went to Tesco. There I was standing in the queue waiting to pay when I noticed I was slowly rocking the trolley backwards and forwards in a soothing, sleep-inducing motion. It wouldn't have been so bad if I had had the baby with me at the time.

Is that a cuckoo I can hear?

Updated: 09:20 Tuesday, July 08, 2003