NEVER mind the infinity of the universe, let's consider the greatest mystery of all - women's thermostats.

I'm fairly warm-blooded and become overheated quite easily. No surprise there, say my critics. But seriously chaps, are you always clashing with the females in your house over the levels of warmth or cold? Yes, of course you are.

I've spent the last 25 years switching off lights - yes, I hate artificial light, too - heaters of all description and the biggest gas-guzzler of all, the central heating.

Just as my wife has spent the last quarter-of-a-century switching everything back on again. Take a look at the picture above - if you wonder why I look mad, then these are the reasons why.

In a single-sex household, you are always a minority of one.

In our house, all it takes is for the sun to go behind the clouds and on goes the imitation coal gas fire.

It burns away despite my protests that it's the middle of May, until I eventually flounce out in a huff.

Then comes the icing on this particular cake of a wind-up - the loft window is wide open and all the heat is therefore on its way to skim a few more inches of the polar caps. Meanwhile, my two daughters are huddled on the settee with only bared midriffs to keep them warm.

"It's freezing in here," they say, as if blind to the connection between layers of clothing and whether you suffer from hypothermia or not.

The other riddle is this - if women have more bodily fat then men, how come they feel the cold more?

I'll probably never know the answer to that one, but I do know this. Global warming is not brought about by cars, factories or passenger jets. It's caused by women.