“I am definitely the most heterosexual man in the room!” said The Canary.

The Canary is called The Canary because he tends to be a bit of a mental on the mountain, so when we are off-piste we generally send him over blind horizons and off cliffs to check it is safe for the rest of us to ski and board. Do not get the wrong idea though, as he works in womens clothing, so do not read too much into this foolhardy bravery.  I mean his company deals in womens clothing, I have no idea how he is attired during the working day. I very much doubt he wears the same type of skirt that he wears in the evening.

His outrageous claim led to some vociferous debate over who was the most heterosexual man in the room. I did not contribute to this mass debate however, and I merely let my obvious manliness speak for itself. Very quietly. I believe in the old adage, the louder the voice, the weaker the argument.  I merely sat back and enjoyed my sherry.

Later that evening, when we were sat in the restaurant, and we had consumed the obligatory obscene amount of alcohol, it was decided that the heterosexuality issue could easily be resolved by the table of girls next to us. But, in an alcohol-induced twist we decided that rather than ask who was the most heterosexual, it would be much better to ask them who was the least heterosexual.

There was much puffy-chestedness amongst the males in the group as the table of girls assessed us carefully. Up an down the table they looked, soaking up the palpable testosterone.

“I think it might be the one with the stripey jumper and white shirt.” whispered one of the girls.

“Hang on! I think you’ll find – technically speaking – that this jumper has hoops, not stripes.” I correctly pointed out, in an extremely masculine and yet supremely confident quiet manner.

I had suspected that making a bit of an effort, sartorially speaking, would count against me. Especially as everybody else had a scruffy t-shirt on.

Still, I am perfectly happy being the best dressed man on the mountain (which is obviously what the women on the next table were really saying anyway), and anyone who says different is a t-shirt-clad Neanderthal.

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