Tom and Barbera Goode what a happy couple, so well matched, so committed to their cause, so devoted to each other, so un-materialistic, so happy, SO F*** OFF. I used to think that Vivien in the Young Ones, was out of order when he lambasted the soreen tranquillity of the Goode Life. I used to take Rick's side and think that Felicity Kendall was sweetly pretty and obviously at her sexual peak during the filming of the top seventies sit-com. However the unreality of it all has begun to hit me like a ton of organic fertiliser.

Abandoning the stresses of the rat race and cutting off your own gas and leccy supply, to become self-sufficient, may sound like a great idea after ten pints and a curry. The problem is that nobody lives like that, and I'm not talking about all that grow your own muesli bollocks, nobody but nobody is that happy as a couple. If you tried that malarky in real life, the woman would start whinging after two days about not being able to plug in her hair drier, and the fact that you can't grow crisps, chocolate, or copies of Marie Claire or episodes of Home and Away.

 Women, we shag 'em they shag us, we screw 'em they screw us up. The Goodes had a few tense moments, but after exclaiming "OOOOO TOM" everything was hunky dory in the Goode household. Alas in real life real relationships are not so harmonious, they are more like a series of arguments, so much so that relationships can be seen as one long argument with the occasional quiet bit when you go to the pictures or fall sleep. Arguing with a woman is like playing tennis surrounded by six tennis ball machines, and without a racquet. There is no logic to what they say, remember, believe, accuse you of, invent and decide. After years as fifty per cent of several couples I have come to the conclusion that women are another species altogether, an alien life form sent to terrorise the male species until it finally gives up, calls it a day, fills up the sperm banks, and tops itself.

As The Spice Girls recently proved, women speak a language that is totally incomprehensible to men, what does "I wanna , I wanna, I wanna, ZigZag" mean? Growing up in the seventies was dangerous, the TV told lies to children. Lies such as these, that growing up would be fun and funny and that relationships would be harmonious, even Margot and Jerry got on!! Goode god, I'm a mess and I blame The Goode Life.