Football. Ugh. How much longer must we put up with feeble excuses and TV-wandering eyes? How many more dinners, park trips, and trysts cancelled? TV sales are up? Whatever.

You want to see real sales growth - check out AA battery sales. Through. The. Roof.

Visit a "nice" (i.e., no TV) establishment on game night. Ghost town. Except for the girls in their slutty-best, eyes fixed on the door, hoping some feral males will stumble in. Fat chance.

So there's really only one option, ladies. The Gayers! Gawd bless 'em! So, girls, gather ye fags while ye may. Relive those glorious nights dancing on tabletops, peeing in the street, and carrying your dignity and your shoes home, Muscle Mary in tow.

Mind, for those who haven't fag-hagged in some years, they don't all treat you like a young Liza Minelli these days: Some gay spots are now off-limits to women.

Thank goodness then for Powder Monkey, Greenwich's new £1m gay outpost, with its shiny new interior and urinals modelled on Mick Jagger's mouth - the new place sure outshines the former beer-stained local.

Fear not, straight boys will be back soon. The species cannot survive on football alone.