I am sure that I qualify — I am as unreasonable and impossible as any man.

On the upside, I love shopping. And I have a clue or two to what women want.

Then why can’t I have a wife? Someone preferably like my grandmother, (who never gave her husband any trouble as long as she had a free hand with the household, and which sensible husband would ever object to that!). Admitted, her home would never have made it to housekeeping glossies, but I still have fond memories of her hot luchis and delicious mutton curry. And she always remembered to boil me an egg when I went visiting.

Of course, I would make no such demand of my wife — unless she absolutely insists.

The requirements, in the main, are simple. She will have to look after my home and — to be adopted — kid and dog; have my favourite dishes ready when I come home; have a ready ear when I want to hold forth and have sympathy for my pet peeves.

For my part, I will be generous. I will not be a couch potato during cricket season. I will not spend the after-work hours in a pub with booze buddies (okay, just the weekends). I will watch sentimental flicks and have vats of gossip to dish out. I will even call it an ‘open marriage’ if she promises not to elope.

As offers go, that I think is reasonable.

So dear reader, in case you are not available, will you introduce me to your grandmother?