AS A loyal and regular watcher of ESPN, I must say that the sports channel is starting to make me worry.

The source of this anxiety – as I’m sure many of you have already guessed – is hot babes.

Specifically, the way they seem to be taking over the station. Just last week, I discovered that they had enough attractive women in their stable to trot a different one out to read sports scores every weekday.

This is too much.

Thinking back now, I realised the babes had infiltrated the station gradually, starting with just one or two, some time last year.

Slowly the cable channel snuck in a few more and then another few more, not unlike how someone would boil a live frog. (Don’t try this at home, kids!)

You know the story. If you were to put the frog straight into a pot of boiling water, the frog would jump out. (This, assuming you had lost the lid to the pot.) But if you start by putting the frog in cool water, and then slowly and gradually increasing babe quota until one day bikini-clad girls are hosting the preview and analysis shows for the World Cup football, the frog will be soup.

Or something like that. Okay, I realise I may not have popular support on this one. I realise there may be guys out there who actually quite like having a lot of attractive women present football to them.

These are the very guys who may now be thinking: “Is this fella nuts? He sounds like he has consumed one too many bowls of frog soup. Is he even... a man?”

Yes, on the one hand, I do not blame ESPN for this babe infusion. Established guy wisdom dictates that there is nothing that would not be improved with the addition of hot chicks and/or alcohol.

But I have to say that I think this is an exception. Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against hot babes. They’re great, and I do not dispute that they would add significant value to otherwise mundane events like engineering trade shows or chainsaw advertisements.

I just don’t really want them in my football. For one, it’s the shameless exploitation of women in a situation where shameless exploitation of women is not strictly necessary. (Not that it’s ever strictly necessary)

Thing is, the likes of Jamie Yeo, Paula Malai Ali and Charlie Webster don’t appear to be given any roles that require deep insight or analysis. Rather, they helm variety programmes or co-host football shows – where it just seems their sole purpose is to be eye candy.

And I ask myself: What for? Do they think I need any more incentive to tune in and support my team? Are they doubting my dedication? You slap a fat, balding ex-football player who looks like he had his face smashed in with a shovel and I’d still watch it.

I bet most other men would, too. You hardly ever hear anyone say: “I would like to subscribe to ESPN, but you know, I just don’t get to see enough hot chicks on that channel.”

And then, there is this whole jealousy thing. Yes, I am jealous of those attractive women who get paid to watch football and talk about it afterwards. I’d do that for free. How come they get that privilege? What have they ever done for their team?!

Sorry, I tend to get very possessive about my football, as men tend to do. We feel that we have really made personal sacrifices (Sacrificing time spent with girlfriends, for example) to support our clubs.

To that end, we are a little wary of non-fans when they encroach on our football territory. Non-fans are not just those who do not watch football, but also those who may not share the same level of commitment to the cause.

Now, I really have no idea about the level of commitment or sporting knowledge all those ESPN presenters have. They may have a lot. They may get nervous twitches before matches. They may get into really deep, week-long depression every time their team loses.

Or they may, as one presenter in England did, after announcing that his team had lost, and thinking that he was off the air, say a very, very bad word on live broadcast television.

I don’t know, but there is this unshakeable feeling – especially with the publicity shots of them in seductive poses – that looks were the central motivation when they were hired.

So there, that’s what I think. Some of you may agree with me, some of you may not, but I’m sure we can come to some sort of compromise on the appropriate babe-football ratio.

This pot is starting to get hot.

I USED to think that women, by and large, were partially blind.

How else to explain their seeming inability to see the numbers on the right side of a menu? Or the inability to notice that half of their $70 lobster is still on the plate?

Surely it’s an eyesight problem, I decided. But over the years, as woman after woman turned down my advances, I realised that there was, in fact, nothing wrong with their eyes. It was their brains (wooo).

No seriously, what I mean is that women “think” about food in a very different way from men. However, I’m not saying one way is better than the other. Rather, my aim is simply to point out some of the differences in the hope that men and women can come together with open minds and use this knowledge to achieve a better all-round dining experience for everyone.

Or not, because I’m often wrong.

But as far as I’m concerned, women’s thinking about food can be boiled down to the following tenets: Food is just food and does not possess any inherent economic value. Food is meant to be shared. In contrast, the main principles of man-dining are: All food has a direct, inextricable monetary value. Food is best enjoyed alone. You want some of what I’m having? Order your own.

Also, and this is just an aside: Men do not consider salads meals. They are side dishes. We only eat salad if it’s accompanied by, say, some fried chicken.

Though seemingly inconsequential, these marked differences in gastronomic thinking can lead to some tension across the restaurant table.

For instance, most women would recall being asked by a man at the end of a meal: “Are you finished?” or “Is that all you are going to eat?” When they ask this, men are not simply making polite inquiry into your well-being. Instead, it is genuine concern that you intend to take only three bites out of the $60 filet mignon they are going to have to pay for.

Here’s what I think is at the heart of the problem: Women look down at their plate and all they see is a piece of meat. Men actually see the $60. A man looks at your unfinished meal and thinks: “That’s at least $45 still left on her plate. I cannot believe that’s all she’s going to eat!” But because a woman only sees a slab of meat there, her thoughts are more along the lines of: “I’ve had a taste of it and I’m feeling a little full now. Sure, it’s a bit of a waste, but why suffer trying to finish it? Let’s not ruin dessert.”

Of course, some women take it a step further. Some – and I know this sounds silly but a female friend swears it’s true – feel there’s even a little bit of a stigma at being able to finish a meal. They apparently fear that their friends might – get ready – gossip about their eating.

“Did you see Marilyn at dinner? She walloped a whole steak by herself! No wonder she’s getting a tummy.” What usually happens then is that men will – even if they are full – force themselves to eat the food left over by women.

This particular arrangement suits women just fine because they love sharing their food. It’s become almost part of their social psyche, like being unable to go to the toilet alone. My grandmother, for example, cannot eat anything, no matter how small, without trying to offer part of it to someone.

She could be eating a single M&M and she’d want to cut you a piece. My grandfather, on the other hand, never tried to offer anyone his food.

Of course, getting a bit of extra food doesn’t bother men too much. What bothers men is when women want some back.

Many men are simply not good with sharing food. Personally it’s difficult to explain. I don’t even know why I’m so protective of my plate. I figure it’s a hangover from pre-history when ancient man would growl and gristle when ancient woman made advances on his mastodon with her fork.

At no point is women’s sharing impulse more obvious than when there is dessert involved. I’ve discovered that it is not necessary to ask a woman if she wants dessert. She does. She wants some of yours.

Some may actually turn away the dessert menu, citing weight issues, but when your dessert arrives, they ask for an extra spoon.

But I’ve begun to accept that I’m powerless to do anything about it. The best I can hope to do is to try and adapt.

For example, I now actually suggest “sharing” desserts, but push for two different ones so that we can “try more things”. That way, I don’t feel short-changed and she gets to share.

As for leftovers, I think I’m developing a sort of partial blindness.