Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman, Tammy Wynette sang. If we’re not busy giving all our “love to just one man”, which is hard enough, we’re plucking our Chewbacca-esque eyebrows and trying to navigate escalators in heels. It’s tough.

Although we could decide not to inflict pain upon ourselves and wander around town in flats looking like a werewolf, there are a few things that the fairer sex can’t avoid, namely “gegging”.

Now, I’m new to the gegging phenomenon. When a Scouse mate of mine first used the term I could only say a confused “eh?!”

“It means getting involved in something that has NOTHING to do with you,” she informed me after seeing another friend and I listening in on a stranger’s phone conversation. The victim/phone woman was discussing which toilet paper to buy when, out of nowhere, some unseen force compelled us to offer our advice.

“The cheap one is just as good.” I tapped the stranger on her shoulder. “It doesn’t chafe as much as you’d think.” “No!” my other mate piped up. “Three T’s you don’t skimp on – toilet roll, tea bags and teacakes.”

The woman looked bemused and slowly started backing away while telling her friend she would call them back.

Now come on, ladies. We ALL indulge in a bit of gegging from time to time. We see a couple arguing on a Saturday night, we make a bee-line to ‘offer’ our advice and scream “leave him!” whilst our dress is soaked in voddy. If we see a cashier/customer issue going down we feel compelled to share with them the time that our card got declined then discovered we’d actually been charged twice.

I don’t like to call it being nosey, or sticking your oar in, I like to call it ‘sociable’. A bit of gegging now and again is harmless… usually.

Last week I was minding my own business and curtain twitching while watching two elderly ladies get into gear.

“Pick it up!” I heard one shout at the other while she pointed at an angry Pomeranian that was barking and viciously dragging its bum over the pavement simultaneously. The two continued to exchange (not so) pleasantries and the gegging bug latched on to me like lice at a nursery.

“Well… was it your dog that made a mess?” I interjected.

“It was lass!” the woman clearly offended by public pooping chirped up, happy to have a gegger on board.

“It’s nowt to do wid you!” the crazy Pom lady fired back.

I wouldn’t take a telling. As far as I was concerned I’d successfully gegged my way into the conversation and started airing my views:

“A kid could get that in their mouth!” I screeched, then wondered what a kid would have to be doing for that particular scenario to unfold.

At this point I was out on the street in my dressing gown, knee deep in gegging, so much so I didn’t notice my two-year-old take a running jump into the offending pile. “It’s your mess now!” Pom lady laughed. “Shouldn’t have stuck your snout in!”

Do I regret it? Nah! Gegging is ingrained in every woman’s soul. So go forth and geg! Just make sure you know what you’re getting into. Literally.