Everyday things women claim to be better at but it's bollocks, by a man

WOMEN claim to be better at everything which is sexist, patronising and above all a filthy lie, argues man and husband Tom Logan:

Buying presents

They’re meant to be good at buying presents, but then just get you a jumper or a book or something. Ask them to pick you a PS5 game or a quality air-rifle and they haven’t got a clue. Come back when you can differentiate between ride-on mowers, ladies.

Being supportive after a split

Women talk for hours about what went wrong and ‘feelings’. But research into combat veterans found reliving traumatic events can make you feel worse. When a man says to a friend in the pub, ‘Plenty more fish in the sea, Steve. Get a round in and stop whinging’, it’s actually a sensitive and effective psychological coping strategy.

Multi-tasking

They’re excellent at this if ‘banging on about multi-tasking’ counts as a skill. In reality it’s piss-easy. I can cook dinner, look after the kids, watch TV and pop out for fags no problem. Okay, the odd child may get lost but mostly they turn up unharmed with a bag of chips and 20 Superkings.

Remembering birthdays

Yeah, women are better at this – because they cheat and use a little notebook with flowers on it. Let’s see how many they’d remember just using their brain. None. Stop playing on easy mode, women.

They’re good with personal problems

They’re listening, but only because they love secrets, conflict and drama, like EastEnders. Try them on real stuff like Everton flirting with relegation and they don’t want to know. I told my wife and did she sit there nodding away with a sombre face on, like the emotional vampire she is? Did she f**k.

Not crashing cars

Let’s lay this myth to rest. Women have fewer car accidents not because they’re better drivers but because they lack the competitive edge to enter into a high-speed duel and floor it just to beat that prick in a BMW. If women did 60mph round a tight bend to the sound of The Prodigy’s Roadblox they’d put their car in a ditch too.

Setting boundaries for children

Whenever you see a child having a tantrum in the street or screaming for sweets in Sainsbury’s, who’s looking after them? That’s right – Mum. Because Dad’s stayed at home, being an excellent role model who sensibly avoids conflict.

Investing

Women play it safe. Men know a worthwhile investment has astronomical odds that mean you never have to work again. That’s why I’ve got £1,500 on Supersonic Laddie in the 3.30 at Cheltenham at 999/1. My wife won’t be complaining when she gets a Porsche for her birthday. Whenever that is. Shit, I hope it’s not tomorrow.

Six basic things that now require a f**king app

TECHNOLOGY changed the world then got carried away. Now these previously simple actions require a fiddly bloody app to use: 

Listening to music

20 years ago you’d select a CD, pop it in the tray, and play the bastard. Hooking up the speakers was a one-time job. Now you need to download the app, set up your account, sync your devices, sit through regular updates midway through Paul’s Boutique and it cuts out when it automatically begins playing in your boyfriend’s car.

Going swimming

You’d rock up at the front desk with your trunks rolled in your towel and pay in coins. Now? You’re informed you must book via an unusable app for a specific slot in the crowded pool and if you don’t make it? You’ll be fined. Don’t worry, you agreed to that when you registered.

Getting a free coffee

It used to be a card you kept in your wallet that got stamped. Crude, effective, unimprovable. Now you’re in the queue at Caffè Nero and you’re downloading, you’re entering your details, you’re surrendering all rights to privacy in perpetuity and it still doesn’t f**king work.

Finding your way around

Maps still exist. So do street signs. You used to have a rough idea where you were all the time. That skill’s long-atrophied, replaced by blindly following Google Maps until you arrive, blinking and disorientated, at your destination. If you run out of battery or there’s no bars you can be six streets away and totally f**ked.

Going to the pub

Even the simple act of nodding in the direction of the pub and grunting ‘pint?’ has been ruined by Silicon Valley. These days it’s all WhatsApp and scrolling through memes you’ve already seen and videos you’ll never watch to find where and when you’re meeting and if that arsehole Gavin will be there.

Getting rejected

Getting shot down was a character-building element of the dating game. It honed your flirting skills, thickened your skin and made pulling all the sweeter. But now it’s all online, and you’re flicking through five dating apps and being cut dead on all of them. It still hurts, but it’s more blunt trauma.