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We're naturally promiscuous, and other 'scientific' excuses for men’s behaviour

WANT to cheat on your partner but don’t like getting grief for it? Science is your friend. Here are some great pseudo-scientific excuses for shitty male behaviour.

Men aren’t naturally monogamous

Men are meant to shag as many females as possible, resulting in lots of babies even if a few get eaten by wolves along the way, with the ultimate, noble goal of stopping the human race dying out. The only problem is that vast numbers of men aren’t untrustworthy, skirt-chasing sleazeballs. Maybe they’re a different species?

Men have more testosterone

Used to justify aggressive behaviour. But unless you’re taking mental amounts of steroids, humans have a thing known as ‘self-control’. Aggression doesn’t really stand up as an evolutionary trait either, since cavemen didn’t have Ford Transits to cut up other drivers and shout abuse from.

Men’s brains are more logical

Men methodically work through problems, and thus make good scientists and engineers, while women are nurturing and prefer babies, nursing ill people and fluffy kittens. However totally disbarring women from jobs like scientist may have affected their numbers. Just a wild theory.

Men needed to be violent in the past

History was brutal, and our ancestors had to protect themselves first from sabre-toothed tigers then other humans who discovered that swords were handy for helping yourself to cattle, crops, gold, slaves and women. However the average thug in a kebab shop isn’t protecting Carthage, he’s kicking someone’s head in because he’s shitfaced and f**king hates students.

Men have a natural urge to catalogue things

More oh-so-reliable pop neuroscience. Dreary hobbies like trainspotting are apparently the result of men’s love of lists and completeness. Hmm. Lots of women collect porcelain frogs, and we don’t say, ‘Your brain is hardwired to collect porcelain frogs. And those bloody hideous weeping Pierrot figurines.’

Men don’t have women’s maternal instincts

Recent studies suggest the ‘maternal instinct’ is not unique to women. Which is bad news for lazy men. Since you’re basically a big hairy mum there’s no excuse for not changing nappies and enthusiastically transporting your kiddywink in a naff Guardian-reader papoose. You should even think about doing a few household chores and putting the toilet seat down, now that you’re a woman.

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On a date, on a train, at the in-laws: High-pressure places to take a dump

DOING a ‘number two’ is an unavoidable bodily function. But sadly not all toilet trips can be relaxing moments of deep thought. Here are five particularly stressful shitting scenarios.

On a date

Spend more than five minutes away from the restaurant table and your date will guess your vile act. Try a ‘speed shit’ – do your business, flush and get the hell out of Dodge. Don’t look back, don’t wash your hands. Then realise your date is a dud who talks with their mouth full and has weird right-wing views. You may as well have brought a book and finished a chapter of Iain M Banks on the bog.

On a train

Train poos comes with two major risks. One: being identified as the culprit. If you’ve just done a stinky one, you need to skulk back to your seat quickly. Maybe throw people off the scent – as it were – by going to the buffet and spending £8 on an instant coffee and a Kit Kat. Risk two: you can’t work out how to lock the electric door, so every toilet trip comes with the risk of being slowly ‘unveiled’ by another traveller while you’re hunched over the bog.

Anywhere outside

You could be deep in the North American wilderness, surviving off berries and raccoon meat, but the moment you drop your slacks 15 ramblers from the Women’s Institute will immediately appear. Even if you avoid humans, nature will still ruin an outdoor shit. Which leaves are safe to wipe your arse on without three days of itching? And knowing your luck, one of the nation’s ten remaining adders is planning to slither up and bite you on the ringpiece.

At the in-laws

It doesn’t matter whether you’re newly dating their offspring or have been married a decade, taking a shit at the in-laws is PTSD territory. There’s nothing to match the horror of meeting Mr or Mrs Whatever as they potter about upstairs and you emerge from a noisy dump. They’ll be talking about your ‘loose bowels’ to their extended family for years to come. And would it f**king kill them to buy some air freshener? Cheapskates.

At the office

Most workers subscribe to the ‘hold it in until you’re home’ ethos. But that’s not always possible, particularly if your miserable job drove you to have eight pints on a Tuesday night. All you can do is take precautions. Go to the bogs on a different floor, open a window, stuff the lavatory with loo roll to create a cushion and for goodness’ sake, hold your feet up. You don’t want your workmates to be able to ID you from your shoes as the Secret Shitter of the 5th Floor.

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