In my experience men are rubbish at finding things. There are one or two notable exceptions of course.

Drop them blindfolded into a strange town, take away their shoes, their wallet and their dignity and they will still be able to find the nearest pub within five minutes.

And let them loose on the Internet for more than thirty seconds and they will immediately find some porn to snigger and point at (while furtively noting the website address under their 'favourites' icon).

But these are merely the exceptions that prove the rule that men - in very general, purely sexist terms - couldn't hit a cow's bum with a banjo if you drew them a map, gave them an anatomical scale model and glued the said banjo to their hand while casually strolling through a field of Friesians.

And why couldn't they do it? Because...

- They don't need maps, their minds are a veritable atlas already

- If they twiddle their thumbs long enough you will hit the cow on the bum with a banjo for them

- They would inevitably take a wrong turn between the five-bar gate and the Friesians and end up in the local pub talking about the lack of quality porn on the Internet.

Ask them why they couldn't do it though and you get a very different answer.

He will look at you over his frothy pint, all big-eyed and innocently Bambi-like, and say "I couldn't find any cows, so I prodded a rabbit with a piccolo instead" or - and this one is the real clincher - "there weren't any cows, so I sold the banjo and bought a Ferrari".

What I am trying to say, in a very roundabout way involving cows, banjos and porn, is that men can't find anything.

And, when they have failed to find what they are looking for, instead of simply coming back and saying so, they pretend they were actually looking for something else instead and return with an item that is completely impractical and irrelevant to the job at hand.

Men might joke about women not being able to read maps (a 'fact' that was called into question by York aircraft engineer and map reading expert Paul Turner just last week - and about time too), but if you ask me, men would be lost without us.

If you don't believe me, why not test the skills of the man in your life in the comfort of your own home?

Next time something gets spilled, ask him to fetch the squeegee from the cupboard under the stairs. After a bit of huffing and puffing - men can't do anything without a bit of huff and puff - he will eventually slope off, only to return a few minutes later minus the mop.

"Couldn't find the squeegee," he will announce, not mentioning that he couldn't even find the cupboard. "But look, I found my old rugby boots instead."

Next, ask him to take the kids round to their friend Tom's house.

This may seem like a simple proposition, but to a man it's like you have asked him to scale Mount Everest without oxygen.

First he has to find the kids, then he has to find their shoes (do they really need two each?), then comes the hunt for the car keys (they're on the hook by the door, but don't tell him), followed by the hunt for the car (he swears he parked it right outside - someone must have moved it in the night) and then, and only then, does he actually set off to Tom's.

Of course he actually has no idea where Tom lives, or indeed who Tom is, but that, in his poor muddle-headed, fluffy old mind, is beside the point.

If you are feeling particularly mean, you could also ask him to find your G-spot, but I wouldn't advise it. You may never see the poor devil again - even with his torch and compass.

And don't even bother to tell the man in your life to read this column.

Why? Because...

- He won't be able to find the page

- He won't be able to find the paper, even though he is actually sitting on it

- He won't be able to find the energy to move unless there is a pint and some porn in it for his trouble.

Updated: 10:30 Tuesday, January 14, 2003