I HAVE for a long time made known my dislike of the most overrated activity on the planet. Just watching sex on television has a stupefying effect on me - as for actually doing it... Yawn - it beats counting sheep any day of the week.

Yet to all intents and purposes it's immensely satisfying. Now, to my horror, I find that another activity I go out of my way to avoid is being regaled by pleasure-seekers everywhere.

Incredibly, housework is being billed as "the new sex", and in America thousands of people - men and women - are dashing to the bookstores to buy a new 884-page volume, Home Comforts, on how to keep house and find satisfaction in doing so.

Tasks such as doing the dishes, vacuuming and flicking a duster around are no longer thought of as chores, but are fulfilling, both physically and mentally.

Not one for plugging the Hoover in more than once a year, nor changing the bed until the sheets are threadbare, I thought I'd put some concerted effort into housework to see if all this is true. Is it really as satisfying as it's cracked up to be? Here are my verdicts....

Washing up

Despite the warm water and plentiful suds to swish around, this put me in a bad mood straightaway. Faced with two pans, one encrusted with yesterday's scrambled egg and the other plastered with gunky pasta, I knew it would be a long-tedious Brillo job. And it was. Then, just as I'd plucked the 15th wire wool splinter from my hand, I spotted the sandwich toaster - coated in melted cheese. Strangely, as I scoured and scraped one desire was definitely aroused - to leave the rest of the dishes to soak until my husband came home.

Marks out of ten for erotic

satisfaction: 1

Making the bed

Now while this takes place in the bedroom and entails lots of bodily bending and stretching across the mattress, it's about as enjoyable as a wet afternoon on Morecambe sands. After wrestling with a duvet cover for 40 minutes, I suppose it's mildly satisfying to survey a crisp, fresh, clean one lying neatly on the bed. But the pleasure is eroded when you glance down at the pile of sheets you now have to wash and iron.

Marks out of ten: 4

Ironing

Now I admit - and it may be sad - that I find ironing quite stimulating. The sight of all those crumpled garments suddenly crease-free and ready-to-wear. Lovely. No doubt a psychiatrist would say I was sub-consciously smoothing out my problems. But it's a love-hate relationship. While I love pressing the children's clothes, I detest ironing my husband's shirts, my skirts and bedding.

Marks out of ten: 6

Vacuuming

There may be a lot of thrusting involved, and lots of phallic-looking tools, but really, how can anyone find pleasure in this chore? Always having to switch attachments, poke around in corners and cracks, and scream as you suddenly zoom over a four-inch nail that just happens to be lurking under the coffee table. Then you've got to wind up the flex and put the thing away. Awful. Anyone who fantasises about vacuuming should seek immediate help.

Marks out of ten: 0

Dusting

Now this task I used to hate. Dusters are horrible things, harbouring sneezy substances like, well... dust. But then I discovered the Marvellous Magic Duster - a nylon-haired, extendible broom-on-a-stick that you can twirl into lampshades, round lofty corners and into crevices. With its rainbow colours, it's like a magic wand and it certainly puts a smile on my face when I use it to remove the odd cobweb. It amuses my husband too. I find it's a great sex substitute - if he's in the mood, I can always get it out to distract him.

Marks out of ten: 10