THIRTY-seven out of 50 - hmm, that's not bad, but does it make me a 'real' man?

A survey commissioned by bookmaker William Hill consists of 50 questions designed to measure one's manliness against.

Quite why William Hill feels the need to measure such a thing is beyond me, but it piqued my interest.

Yet, having completed the 50 questions, I must admit I am no nearer to being able to define myself as a 'real' man.

Yes, based on my answers to the questions, and solely on that, I'm pretty manly. But have William Hill set the bar a little low?

Things didn't get off to a great start. Apparently, a 'real' man knows the date of his wedding anniversary without having to think about it. I'm not married however, and all I can muster is the date that Lady Weekender and I moved in together.

I know it without having to think about it though, and I'm pretty confident I would know the date of my wedding anniversary too. In fact, if my other half had not been so set against the idea of marriage, we would have been married years ago.

OK, tying the knot in the centre circle at the Pride Park home of Derby County is not every woman's idea of an ideal wedding venue, but we all have our dreams, don't we?

A 'real' man also knows how to tie up a tie. I can tie a tie, and it looks fine, but I know there are several ways, and on a couple of occasions over the years I have narrowly avoided being sucked into debate over the relative merits of Windsor and other knots.

But the unspoken inference gathered from these near misses is that some knots are considered more manly than others.

Another question I paused over was about knowing the right amount of aftershave to use. Impossible to answer for me, because I don't use it.

But pondering on it, my mind wandered back to those preposterous 1970s Brut adverts on TV - and there were other aftershaves, the names of which escape me - in which hairy-chested hunks appeared to empty almost the entire contents of the bottle onto their faces without wincing as the foul stuff came into contact with their razor-roughened skin.

Maybe in this context, being a 'real' man is not showing how damn painful this can be.

Another question I stumbled over concerned knowing when to accept defeat and apologise. I am quite happy to do these things, but at what point in this process does 'wuss' turn into 'real' man?

In the end I accepted defeat, and if that sounds lame, I apologise, hopefully like a 'real' man.

Another two tests of 'real' manliness, according to the survey, are knowing that when a woman says "I’m fine" she isn't, and when a woman says "do what you want", she doesn't want you to.

Potential minefields both, but I didn't fall for this one, because both sound like examples of the sort of sexist rubbish a (possibly) 'real' man might include in a survey like this.

No, I don't know which way is north (without a compass, though does having one make one a 'real' man?); no, I don't know how to change the oil in a car (but I do know how to change a battery, what was another survey question); no, I don't know how many miles are left after the petrol light goes on, but that's because I always make sure to fill up straightaway (too wussy?); I don't how to tune a television, but might be able to with an instruction booklet (again, too wussy?); I also had to say "no" to knowing how to fix a toilet, but really, it depends on what exactly is wrong with it; and no, I don't know the words to the national anthem, from whatever part of the UK it stems (does not being particularly patriotic bar me from being a 'real' man?).

I can however, perform basic (and not so basic) DIY; I can change a lightbulb; I can read a map; I know my partner's favourite drink; I know how to iron a shirt; I know how to change a tyre; I know how to put up a shelf (surely that is basic DIY?); I know how to polish my shoes; I know the offside rule (but would not want to send someone to sleep explaining it); I know how to fix a bike puncture, jumpstart a car and parallel park; I know the difference between ale and lager (who doesn't?); I know my own height; I know how to drive in snow; I know how to light barbecue; I know what the football scores were at the weekend, what the biggest recent football transfers were, and which team is favourite to win the Premier League; I know how to build a fire, put up a tent, and change a nappy.

Which makes me sound like I know a lot of practical stuff and have a head full of sports chit chat.

A 'real' man? In this post hunter-gatherer, post-Brut splashing, world, I just might qualify.