Gentlemen, you know the story. You take a girl out, buy her a few drinks, seems to be going well - maybe you even share a kiss on her doorstep. Or, this being London - the world capital of accidental weeknight inebriation - wake up naked beside her. And you think: that went well.

But, then, she won't take your calls, respond to your emails or texts, and finally makes up some budget excuse about giving it another go with her ex-boyfriend (FYI - there's never an ex-boyfriend) and you wonder, what went wrong?

The thing is: all her girlfriends know, all her gayfriends know, heck, most of her guyfriends know, because - if she is female - she has dined out on the story of your hideous date all week. The only one who doesn't know what went wrong with you, is you.

Enter the Evaluatress. For less than the cost of gastro pub dinner she will rate you according to strict guideline of 20 criteria, including such vital points as body shape/musculature, fragrance choice and, um, penis size.

But, much as we admire this woman's willingness to damage men's self esteem in such a delightfully callous, shallow way, we've got to admit, we, here at UJ, have never chucked a man because his fingernails, shoes, and/or hair style weren't right.