So. It’s finally happened. Scientists have found a way to manufacture sperm, which means that as of now (or in five years’ time) we can do without the male sex altogether. Given that 90% of the stress women experience is down to men not living up to our high standards, and generally messing with our carefully laid plans, we should be celebrating this news. Pretty soon, men will be extinct and we will live in a giant sorority, where there will be no more Venus-and-Mars misunderstandings, only harmony and co-operation. But, if you think about it, the prospect of a world without men becomes less and less appealing. It’s not so much what we’d miss about them (and there is a bit), as how much would change in a world entirely populated by women. Not just a world of undiluted women, but women unchecked by men. Imagine some of the knock-on effects:

- No more curry houses. It is never women who suggest a curry. Without men, the Noor Jahans and Stars of India would go to the wall.

- No more Wags. Or bandage dresses. Or Elle Macpherson underwear. Women would still dress to impress — just not in the same way. And I, for one, am not bothering with the lacey French knickers.

- No more downstairs loos, tucked away in a quiet corner. You don’t need them.

- No more carbs. Well not their sort, anyway; no more sausages, no more barbecues, no more stout.

- No more sports sections. No more darts and a lot less snooker and football.

- Way more Botox and plastic surgery. If women were left to compete, without a man to say, “I don’t care if she’s got some hips on her, she’s gorgeous”, the body fascists would be out in force, punishing their sisters.

- A lot more make-up. See above.

- No more pointless, girlie TV. At first, you’ll think, “Ha. We can watch Sex and the City and The Hills whenever we like”, but without men, there will be no plot lines. Hmm.

- No more rock’n’roll. Obviously, there are some fab girl rock bands — just not enough.

- No more beards.

- No more being able to say “just you wait until your father gets home”.

- No more collective roars in the night, when someone scores and the roof comes off the neighbourhood.

- No more fireman’s lifts. No more firemen — that’s a pity.

- No more aspirational cooking. Come on — are we the ones grinding our own pesto, making our own sourdough, out there sourcing purple basil and fenugreek? Nope.

- No more gossip. There will be gossip, but it’ll all be about diets, hairdressers and infighting at work. No more love triangles and no more so-and-so spotted necking in a doorway.

- No more pointless flirtation, that you, nonetheless, really look forward to, with the painter/plumber/bike-repair bloke.

- A lot more of those evenings when you get accidentally separated from the men and find yourself talking about PMT, Mirena coils, water retention and bathroom tile suppliers.

Oh dear. I’m missing them already.

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