Help the EOC.

The Equal Opportunities Commission is asking for help, they want your experiences of part-time work and being pushed into the "Mummy Track". They appear to have been doing this for a number of months and so far have 160 responses on their website. Now, despite the fact that these are the bastards who rejected my application to become a Commissioner I really do think that we owe it to ourselves to help them out.

Sooo, go to here and fill out the form and tell them what you think about maternity leave, holding jobs open, part time working for new mothers, the childless subsidising the breeders, be open, be honest. Myself, I found that  Mr Free Market had expressed my views better than I could so I cut and pasted this and sent it in under my name. The views may not be politically correct but we do have to ensure that all views are expressed in such public debates, do we not?

I am not a misogynist. I readily recognise the role women play in society, particularly when it comes to washing, cleaning and getting the tea on the table. And that sex thing.

And let's face it, without them we'd be snacking on three-day-old pizza from the fridge, turning our underpants inside out on alternative days, and tuning into one of Mr Desmond's porn channels at ruinous expense. So yes, they have a use.

But what about when it comes to women in the workplace? I opened my Evening Post one night last week to find a story headlined "Rough deal for pregnant employees".

The story went on to detail the alleged abuse of and discrimination against women who had "fallen pregnant" while in full-time work.

(And isn't that a stupid phrase? No-one "falls pregnant" these days unless she's a slapper who's plummeted off an Ibiza hotel balcony in a drunken stupour onto a priapic joiner from Newcastle who's passed out beneath. And even that would take a degree of accuracy certain to win her the speedboat on Bullseye.)

And discrimination? You are joking, aren't you?

As any small businessman knows all too well, pregnant women are literally sacred cows. Never mind discriminating against them; you daren't even look at them the wrong way without copping for an industrial tribunal claim.

And that sad fact ties in neatly with another news story from the weekend, a piece from the Sunday Times bemoaning the fact that there is an apparent "Brain drain of bright women" who find it "difficult to find jobs that match their ability when they return to work after childbirth".

Oh, really? Well let me paint you a picture. As an enlightened employer, you willingly recruit bright young women. After all, they're cleverer than the comparative blokes, they work harder and they're more ambitious. They smell nicer and they're easier on the eye.

Up the ladder they climb, into senior management positions where they perform admirably. And then, and then … they hit 30 and "fall pregnant". And that's when the nappy hits the fan.

The minute that bit of fuzzy felt turns blue in the lavatories at Tesco, the enlightened employer who has advocated the advancement of women becomes the enemy; an evil MAN who, in their eyes, is determined to do them down.

But look at it from the employer's point of view. The key worker who was essential to their business has suddenly turned into Mother Earth. Her brain has turned to porridge. Her hormones run amok. The run-up to maternity leave is seen as unofficial holiday. If she doesn't fancy coming in, she won't. And what are you going to do about it, YOU MALE BASTARD?

And it gets worse. Once the mewling infant has been delivered, we have the ordeal of the Office Visit. In sweeps the New Mother, treasured child in a £500 pushchair that looks like it has been built by Porsche. The barren, childless crones of the office gather around, making those noises that women do. The baby in question might well be boss-eyed, smelly and ginger, but the assembled company conveniently ignores that fact and gushes over the new-born brat as if it were painted by Caravaggio. And hadn't just filled its nappy.

And then we have the defining moment. The New Mother, by now sagging in once otherwise pert places, desires to return to work. Fine, you think. It will be nice to have her back. But then the dead hand of NuLabour legislation descends upon you.

"I would like to come back to work," she states, damp patches already leaking onto her Mothercare-clad bosom, "but only for one day a week".

One day a week? What kind of business are we running here? How can a key worker only come back for one day a week? But that's the law, folks. You have to accommodate every wish of the New Mother, regardless of operating efficiency.

And then, even when you get your previous superstar back for one day a week, she's utterly useless. Never mind the needs of the business; little Kylie had a sniffle this morning and the Albanian au pair doesn't understand the directions on the Calpol bottle. Oh, and I won't be in next Tuesday because it's baby Pilates class.

And then, just as normality returns, and as your previously-valued employee begins to return to full efficiency … IT HAPPENS AGAIN. Child Number Two is on the horizon and the brain turns to porridge once again. And at the company's expense. So a valuable asset, promoted on merit and in the spirit of equality, becomes a business-funded baby factory. And so the cycle continues.

And what about the poor bloody men who have to cover for Mother Earth? They don't get the luxury of paid holidays just for churning out nippers like shelling peas. And who can blame them if they sometimes feel that Mother Earth would benefit from a substantial kick up her stretch-marked arse?

I am led to believe that all women want is a level playing field. Well from the male point of view, the sooner the better.