I Spy Y

Y-chromosomes make a man a man*. This little piece of DNA determines the masculine gender in humans and drives us guys to do crazy stuff like lick the steak knife clean after a bloody 18oz T-bone. Thanks to this chromosome, men fantasise about sex every seven seconds and sadly it also means that some men don't even last that long.

"Pardon darling? You want me to open up? I can open up my fly for you," sorry, blame the Y for that inappropriate outburst. "What? Do I want to get hot and steamy tonight, my little sexpot? What do you mean iron my shirts?" That seemingly innocent microscopic Y is the cause of all our gender troubles and it's the fault of God, the number one bachelor, if you believe the religious teachings.

The Y in men's bodies makes us the best leaders, thinkers and athletes, plus we know how to wind up women with just a few cleverly timed words. Y does stop us from screaming on rollercoasters and leaves us floundering when it comes to doing that funny towel wrap thing that girls do after a shower. The Y also drives women crazy with statements like, "Ok, we're lost but we are making good time."

Don't blame that rib discrepancy either, it is all down to the Y and how it manipulates us at a molecular level. It is the DNA Journal's Chromosome of the Month one day and becomes the Most Wanted the next, so what shall we do? My personal opinion is to leave it well alone because why tamper with something that allows us to survive daily nags, like ' You didn't do what I thought you were going to do' and 'You also forgot to do that eight years ago.'

The Y makes us act like heroes; it gets the testosterone pumping and the adrenaline coursing through the veins. The Y doesn't fade with age, as my Grandad proved one night when a spider ran across my Grandma's face. He immediately assumed that she was having a nightmare and manfully held her down until it had passed - do you think he received any gratitude?

Women blink nearly twice as much as men and this must have something to do with the Y, but it is unlikely that the Y plays any part in forgetting to put the toilet seat down, since that is actually an age-old male conspiracy to drive women crazy. The Y lets us all down on the rare occasion, it allows us to speak our mind and jump headfirst into a maelstrom of trouble, "No darling, you look great. Trust me, with a body like that you could appear on the cover of a magazine…and spill over on to the back." Damn!

No worries though because within seven seconds of uttering a silent death sentence you will have thought about the make-up sex that could possibly, maybe, hopefully, fingers and toes crossed, happen, but then Y brings you back to your senses and you disappear for a long shower with the door locked.

* Yes, there are exceptions