I have become just a teensy-weensy bit concerned lately that some of you might think I’m a sexist pig.

Call me over-sensitive, but it’s been preying on my mind a bit.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that most of the feedback I get is either from angry women (“I hope you rot in hell you male chauvinist bastard”) or strange men (“Yeah, you tell them brother – they’ve been running our lives for way too long”).

Scary, scary people.

Anyone who knows me – I mean truly knows me – will tell you that I am the original sensitive new age guy.

Sure, there was a time when I didn’t know what the term meant but now I walk the walk and talk the talk of sensitivity.

I open car doors. I let women walk through a door ahead of me. I’ve even stopped breaking wind at the dinner table.

Well, I’ve almost got that one sorted. Some habits are hard to break.

I listen to sensitive music. I read girly books. I even cry in sad movies.

Remember that bit in Rambo where he’s blasted those blokes with the AK-47 but finds his best mate has been killed by a bloke with a ... well, you get my point. It was sad and I wasn’t afraid to admit it.

But the point I want to make here is that no matter how sensitive I am, I still find it impossible to get my head around fashion.

Not just women’s fashion but fashion for blokes as well.

Yes fellas, there is such a thing as fashion sense for straight men.

It might shock you to know that I’m a bloke who has a fairly sparse wardrobe.

A few outfits of good stuff for work, a pair of jeans, some casual shirts, a few pairs of shorts and some T-shirts just about wraps it up.

Oh yeah, there’s a suit tucked away in the wardrobe but I haven’t been to a wedding or a funeral for a while so I’m not sure what sort of condition it’s in.

So maybe you can understand why I don’t get this whole haute couture thing.

Haute couture, apparently, is that bizzare selection of clothes you see on the catwalks of Paris and Milan and Goondiwindi and all those leading fashion places but you know damned well no one will ever wear them in real life because they’d look too bloody silly.

But that’s the whole point, apparently.

Fashion designers go all out creating clothes that no one would be seen dead in.

And they get paid for it!

I don’t know about you, but it seems pretty silly to me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll dress up as much as the next bloke.

And I don’t mean, getting drunk and parading around in women’s underwear.

We’ve all done that at some point in our lives but it’s not what I’m talking about today.

When the need arises, I’ll kick off the thongs and stubbies, slip into a $99 permanent press suit from Lowes and hit the red carpet with the best of them.

I wish I’d been around when safari suits were considered cool but hey, you can’t have everything in life.

At least I’m not as bad as that Colombian hitman the other day.

You heard about him, didn’t you? For goodness sake, don’t you keep up with world news?

Apparently he was a hired killer for one of the drug cartels and used to disguise himself as a woman so he could get close to his targets.

The only thing was that this bloke was very, very unfeminine.

I mean to say, moustaches are considered sexy on women in some cultures but apparently not in Colombia.

Anyway, it seems Colombian police are having a great laugh at the security tape which shows them bursting into this bloke’s hotel room.

There he is – one of the most feared men in the Colombian drug world – being thrown up against the wall and handcuffed while wearing a brown curly wig, ruffled white skirt, brown blouse and black socks.

And so he should be embarrassed.

Even I know that black socks with a white skirt is soooo 1980s.