Birds of a feather do, in fact, flock together and few do it with greater determination than penguins.

Few that is except for Australian females, known in the vernacular as "birds". The challenge of any young testosterone filled male, when entering a social situation, is to try and separate one from the pack. Initially, of course, new participants spend time identifying the most appealing specimen and commence the game of manouvering her away from her group of friends. Many hours can be fruitlessly frittered away in this futile endeavour. More experienced males, on the other hand, have learnt through bitter experience that fortune fancies the less fussy and focus their attention on any bird who drifts away from the collective security of the flock.

The first step is to envagel your way into this exclusively female group and pretend you are interested in the outcome of the prevous nights episode of Australian Idol or whether Tom and Nicole could ever get back together again. Next, and this is the really tricky part, is to move the topic of conversation onto something that the object of your desire finds interesting but the rest of her friends do not. Thereby making an opportunity for you to move yourself and said female away from the group. Usually your exploits at the pub last Saturday night and the ensuing vomit will not achieve this objective. It takes many years for men to appreciate that women cannot understand the masculine pride that accompanies such an event.

For those who are not battle weary males, who have endured far too many social disasters to find the pathetic exploits of their conterparts amusing, hours of enjoyment can be derived from watching lanky and selfconscious adolescents attempting to not only understand but also pretend that they are interested in the topics that occur withing the female domains at a party, typically the kitchen and lounge room.

There are always the male domains of the area surrounding the BBQ and the rumpus room to which a young buck can retreat to lick his wounds after being savaged by a group of females. Here he can return to discussions in which he is completely relaxed, of the footy and exploits at the pub.

All is not bleak however. As the night progresses bordom and alcohol set in amongst the females of the group. At last the simple minded exploits of their male equivalents start to sound, well not interesting, but mildly amusing anyway. They breach the male domains. Older men, making futile attempts to suck in their beer guts, make way for them to enter the group. A collective "If only I was 20 years younger" thought ripples through the middle age contingent. They are the only ones there, waiting for their wives, the younger ones have given up and gone to the pub.