The Eternal Question, SNAG Or RAMM?

Guys – Clutching the remote too tight? Not mastered the art of that whole toilet seat up/toilet seat down debacle? Been suckered by the “shopping for shoes will only take an hour” fiasco? Don’t know whether to moisturise or meditate? Fear not, help is at hand. You just need to find out what type of man you are; apparently. Follow the fascinating case study below, as told in today’s Daily Record, or alternatively have a right good scratch and belch yourself back to sleep.


Summer should be a relaxing and peaceful affair for men. Invariably, we’ve endured a long, dark winter stressing about the football season or whether the car can survive without anti-freeze so now should be the time for pleasurable diversions. The long days and mild weather create a wealth of leisure opportunities, whether in the garden or on the golf course, so the last thing we need is to expend energy pondering taxing, sociological conundrums.

But in the past few months, barely a week has gone by without some media survey or newspaper headline berating us with questions like, “Are you in touch with your feminine side?” or “What kind of man ARE you?” I’ve even come across a question that enquired “What exactly is the point of men?”, although admittedly this was said directly to my face during a disagreement about acceptable levels of daily flatulence.

After asking the probing questions, the surveys usually go on to describe various groupings and subsets of men, a list that seems to grow longer and more bewildering by the week. For example, Tony Blair is now considered to be a RAMM (Resurgent Angry Macho Man) despite admitting recently to an annual cosmetics bill topping £300. I seemed to correspond with only one of the RAMM characteristics so I moved on swiftly to the next category.

Initially, the thought of being a “metrosexual man” was appealing since I’ve recently begun a daily commute on the train and am completely open-minded to all the possibilities that such a journey may bring. But apparently my current level of personal grooming (not to mention my disdain for shopping) falls way short of the standard set by Beckham, Lampard and the like.

No matter because according to one article, “metrosexual no longer cuts the mustard” (flatulence problems perhaps?) and I should now be aspiring to the advanced model of “ubersexual”. The early signs were good.

“Are you committed to uncompromising quality in all areas of your life?” asked the writer.

“Sure,” I replied smugly. “When I buy chocolate buttons, it’s got to be Cadbury’s.”

“Then all you need are the attractive, dynamic, compelling, stylish and supremely confident qualities of a Jude Law or a Colin Farrell,” he continued.

“Really?” I gasped in wonder. “That’s ALL I need? No problem Obi Wan.”

Disheartened at not yet finding a suitable pigeon hole, I decided to take the on-line, what-sort-of-man-are-you test to get a definitive answer.

“Who best embodies the masculine ideal? John Wayne, Steve McQueen, Orlando Bloom or Ben Affleck?”
“McQueen, definitely, any day of the week.”
“How many times a day do you moisturise?”
“Well, I usually have a couple of beers with dinner so I guess that would be 2.”
“How many days a week do you go to the gym?”
“Now if by ‘go’ you mean ‘pass on my way to work’ then that would be 10.”
“What was the last book you picked up?”
“I tried picking up the latest Harry Potter but it was a bit too heavy to hold.”

The test continued for what seemed like several days and on completion, I waited for the computer to dispense its verdict. “Congratulations Neil. You are a SNAG!”

My premature celebrations at the thought of being the ideal catch were only slightly subdued by the explanation that a SNAG is a “Sensitive New Age Guy”; someone who’s in touch with his feminine side but has lost a little backbone.

I shrugged my spineless shoulders and slouched off to the garden, happy at least to have found an answer to the conundrum. Now if only I could get in touch with someone else’s feminine side.