Well well well. Would you looky here lads. It seems that a species of Amazonian ants have developed into a female-only colony, dispensing with males altogether and reproducing via cloning instead of the usual jiggery-pokery method.

Now I’m not saying that the men of this world need to consider this new development a threat to their own existence, I mean I’m as open-minded as the next dude but even I think a human/ant relationship is an inappropriate one. But what starts in one species may, eventually, via the laws of Darwinism, be taken on by another.

Not that I’m saying a world without chaps would be a good world. Hell no, in fact it’d be a disaster. Without flirting I’d have no idea how to fill my days – I’d simply end up walking in circles with a glazed look on my face, muttering chat up lines under my breath like an escaped mental patient. Kids would either avoid me or pelt me with stones. Not nice.

I suppose, being humans, and having a few more noggin cells than the wee ants we may find a way merely to dispel with the rubbish blokes and keep the crackers. Now that might be a very fine idea. How smashing would it be never again to smell the stench of moldy socks, or to be confident that when a bloke promises to call you are sure to be buzzed up in the near future? What about a race of men who always bring flowers and treat us like superior Queens…?

Hmm actually, what started out as a good idea is beginning to sound a smidge dull? After all surely it’s the discovery of the good and bad bits that makes meeting someone new so much fun. If we knew, each and every time, that he was going to be a damn good egg it’d be boring as hell. We’d have to find new and exciting ways to get our kicks. Perhaps we’d become like those crazy Romans and start lobbing people to the lions by way of entertainment. Nope this is no good at all. I reckon we need boys, both smashing and horrid, to keep us on our toes. So those Amazonian ants are welcome to their weird female only ways. And if you don’t mind, Mr. Darwin, I’d like to keep hold of our lads – although if we could consider losing those stinky feet I don’t think anyone would complain, do you?

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