Women live in a strange world that revolves around shoes, handbags and lists for the cleverer minority and Simon Cowell for the dimmer ones. This is why they don't understand the parallel universe that men inhabit where everything is possible.
In this universe a man gets home from the supermarket and washes his Peugeot. Again. Then you hear on the news that Alonso has pranged his Ferrari in the latest Grand Prix and Massa needs a new racing partner. And you think: "I could do that after the way I took that roundabout at 30.007 mph". Well, it could happen.
But while waiting for the phone call from Italy which never came because BT dropped the line you hear that the latest Status Quo gig looks like being cancelled because Rick Parfitt has a bug of some sort. This isn't a problem really because after all that practice with the air guitar you could easily take over and avoid tens of thousands of fans being disappointed. Well, it could happen.
But you don't get that email from Francis Rossi because the internet is playing up, so you decide to go to the match instead. You don your replica shirt and look in the mirror, breathe in and think: "There's a chance". You take your place in the 23rd row at Old Trafford and just as you are tucking into your third pie Sir Alex decides to take Rooney off and needs a substitute. But he has no suitable players so looks around the stadium and spots you and shouts: "You look like you can kick a ball - get down here!" Well, it could happen.
But before you can waddle down the steps the ref blows full time so you go home and decide to watch some television which is showing a medical drama. The patient is dying in theatre and the lead surgeon is completely stuck for ideas. This isn't a problem because you know that given a knife, scissors and elastoplast you can sort it out if the BBC just paged you. Well, it could happen.
But the BBC don't bleep you because all their technicians are on strike so you switch channels to learn that an aircraft is about to crash on London and the pilots are both dead. But you could easily sort this out by leaping on board from the top of Canary Wharf and landing the plane with no training whatsoever and just being talked down by Bruce Willis to the applause of hundreds of passengers. Well, it could happen.
