Male chauvinists have assured me that it is my job to care about domestics. But to show that I am not merely using this as an excuse to slack off work and am taking my responsibilities as a female seriously, I want to tell you about my role model, Baboushka (aka Babs in my book). One could think of her as a Russian version of St Nicholas. For those to whom St Nicholas is a vague figure of festive season relevance with a day in his name, I ought to add some explanations; it would make a useful piece of trivia wouldnít it? However I want to get off the beaten Christmas track and not bother looking it up for your benefit.

A long long time ago in a galaxy far far away (picture Scotland), there lived a woman named Babs (okay so picture boobs). The three kings stopped by her place on their voyage to find the little babs, Jesus (maybe donít picture boobs this time).

They asked her to accompany them on their quest following a star, a request comparable to an offer to be in the studio audience for the X-Factor final, or some such joyous occasion.

And hereís where it gets good; dear old Babs was too busy with the household chores (she just so happened to be cleaning the floor as the kings arrived). She knows her place as a woman, no? Thatís when things took a nasty turn though.

She later set out to follow the three kings with some gifts, regretting not joining them earlier. She asked around but could not find them, nor the Baby Jesus. Legend has it that she is still looking and hence goes about leaving trinkets for good children, hoping they will help her search. Good luck with that.

Truth is there are variations on the theme of old Baboushka, although ìvariationî seems a bit of an understatement! In one version, for example, Baboushka does join the three kings and gives her gifts to the Baby Jesus. Pretty contradictory.

There is clearly no moral here. My original version seems to suggest that ardently doing the housework does not pay which we all know is not true; it is the price of one husband.