THE male species might be a bunch of mansplaining know-it-alls, but there are some things they genuinely know more about than women. Here are just a few…
Pissing outdoors
Women don’t have the advantage of a miniature, multi-directional hose, but their outdoor pissing isn’t in the same league as men’s ability to go anywhere. By the side of a motorway, in a shop doorway or a graveyard, on a cashpoint, right next to the Cenotaph – there’s nowhere these megalads are too embarrassed to urinate. Your move, ladies!
Not finishing anything
Men are world leaders in not quite finishing any task. Many have an ‘incompletion rate’ women can only dream of. From failed DIY projects and abandoned clear-outs of the garage to falling asleep during films, they get a lot of not getting things done done. However one thing they can always be guaranteed to finish is their pint, which just proves men are deep and enigmatic and full of fascinating contradictions.
Browsing incognito
Women just don’t take cyber-security as seriously as men. Obviously there’s a reason they’re so good at covering their tracks, and it’s not because they’re researching a surprise present. You won’t find a trace of porn though. They could probably get a job as a cyber-security expert at the Pentagon if they could tear themselves away from deeply implausible MILF porn.
Theoretical parking
The average bloke is truly incredible at parking, in theory anyway. Tight space you need to parallel park in? Tricky reverse into a bay? Just ask literally any passing man. It’s in their DNA to stop on the spot and confidently give you endless advice. When it comes to actual parking, they’re no better at it than women. But humour them, in their mind they’re Lewis Hamilton, if Formula 1 had a strange parking section.
Inane pub chat
Women can gossip or make smalltalk but male pub chat is a very different beast. It’s basically hours of guff you’ll find impossible to remember five minutes later – a brief abandoned plan to put something on the jukebox, a shallow attempt to identify ‘what’s important in life’, a chat about the barmaid’s love life no one actually cares about. It’s freeform, like jazz. And boring as fuck, also like jazz.
