Oh Lordy, here he comes with more bloody SCIENCE

Oh Lordy, here he comes with more bloody SCIENCE

I said I would never report on Science again, but, y’know, shit happens, and Coleman’s Law of Cash Machines forms in my head.

A man using a cash machine, is like a father-to-son phone call and will only last for about thirty seconds before the transaction is completed. Card – PIN number – withdraw cash – fifty quid* – done.

Women, on the other hand, and like the equivalent mother-to-daughter phone conversation can make this straightforward task last for several hours.

Rummage in handbag for card - card – PIN – forget PIN – look it up in not-very-well-hidden-part-of-diary-in-handbag – PIN – study menu – check balance – select printed balance – study menu – select mini statement – study both print-outs – study menu – select specially hidden girls-only menu – press loads of buttons to no effect until card pops out by mistake – put card back in - forget PIN – look it up in not-very-well-hidden-part-of-diary-in-handbag – PIN – check balance again – withdraw cash – ten pounds – with advice slip – “would you like another service?” – ponder this deep philosophical question as if the future of civilization depends on it – select “show me a nice picture of a kitten” – carry on, forever because I’m in the queue behind you

I, as a man, cannot be trusted with money. She, as a woman, cannot be trusted with the technology, and therein lies the paradox. The only solution, like the queue for the toilets because someone’s taken a copy of Bella in with her, is to have His and Hers cash machines.

I shall write to Mr NatWestBarclaysMidlandsLloyds immediately.

*Now that's wishful thinking