Leave the drinking to the professionals

The other night I was in a restaurant with a couple of good buddies.

Because we are so brilliant, it soon dawned on us that most in the tanked-up throng were women. On more than one occasion a large, boisterous mob tottered past our window, manhandling a blow-up plastic he-man. Magnus was convinced it was the same mob, tottering back and forth, having got lost en route to a hen night, but Stephen quickly put him right.

"They must be different girls because the doll’s different," he said. "The first one was wearing a hat and the second one had a stiffy."

Changed days (episode no 453 in the ongoing saga). It used to be the men who did the binge-drinking, while the women looked on, simultaneously amused and appalled. Now it’s the girls who are girlsterous and womanhandling PVC versions of us. From the other side of the glass, we contemplated this de-tumescence in the fortunes of man. We were doing that moody, introspective male thing: we were navel-gazing. But it wasn’t a totally depressing experience. Because of the current omnipresence of the cropped-top, we were also gazing at other navels.

Of course, men still drink and not every woman drinks too much, but blootered birds are giving booze a bad name. Scotland’s top quack, Dr Mac Armstrong, reveals in his annual report this week that up to 500 women risk developing breast cancer because of excessive bevvying.

Death is one side-effect, but the chief medical officer’s findings got us thinking about the other consequences of getting smashed - non-fatal, but in some ways even more grave. For instance, when a man staggers home late and canned, he usually pays for it through the withdrawal of privileges (sex, football on telly, etc). Does this happen to women? Do women phone up men in the wee small hours while severely under the influence? I didn’t think they did, but at the Tindersticks gig on Monday I met Dave’s friend Sam, who confessed that while out with the girls last weekend she called up a former boyfriend at 4:30am. Cheers.

OK, but do women ring up men at 4:30am and boldly declare: "I love you"? I bet they don’t. This has never happened to me and yet I’ve done it to women many times.

Of course, some women are unlucky. They don’t get the 4:30am call because, shortly before then, the man loses his mobile phone. I’ve never lost a moby while steaming (obviously), although I’ve got a friend who’s managed to misplace four of them.

Similarly, I’ve never promised a woman I’d meet her later and failed to show because I got caught up in a big round with the guys (though, obviously, I know men who have because you’ve got to buy drinks back, haven’t you?). And I’ve never woke up after a heavy sesh desperate for a pee and mistaken the wardrobe for the loo (though the friends who’ve done this maintain to this day that the layout of their flats was mysteriously re-arranged while they were asleep).

Women should leave drinking to the professionals. We’ve had more practice at it and, anyway, you lot would just look silly trying to squat on an Ali Baba washing-basket.