Since that amazing moment over a year ago when Pippa Middleton’s bottom went planetary, I’ve found myself inspecting the derrieres of everyone from the postman to the guy in Starbucks to the girl at the check out in the supermarket.

What makes a great one? What characterizes Pippa’s bottom – lovely though it is, especially in that dress – from the butts of the average person?

And I’m not being critical here but men appear to be the ones drooling over PM’s posterior more than women. Do they prefer a muscle-butt rather than something more substantial? Is this what they’re looking for in their perfect partner? Don’t they prefer something curvy that could sit on a knee and not leave a crease?

A bottom, like a breast and a narrow waist is a symbol of fertility in a woman, and over millenia men have been attracted to plenteous, competent, well-disposed buttocks; buttocks that can do the job nature intended.

While pondering the meaning of this – in one of those moments when I should be editing and coming up with a brilliant blurb for my new book – it occurred to me that what women want from their own bottom is very different to the expectations placed upon it by a man. Not that I’ve a great deal of experience (she says), but men appear to prefer a handful, something to grope pinch, perhaps something with a jiggle, and a big spoonful of lurve, women, as ever and how pathetic are we, want something skinny.

We want a bum that can wear skinny jeans without trying to burst forth and break loose. A bum that rocks a bikini bottom. A bum that ‘never looks big’ in this. We want peachy and lifted and taut.

If I could choose my bum, I’d want Brooklyn Decker’s bottom which is as close to perfection as you can imagine without belonging to the prestidigitization of the airbrush. It’s pert, high and powerful.

In the interests of understanding my subject, I asked my girlfriends if they liked their bums and NOT ONE said they did. One or two liked their feet, hands, their boobs or their hair, but every single one hated her bottom. And I know three of them said they sobbed in changing rooms with those God awful surround mirrors when they saw their bum. I even know some who wear tops that cover their bum in the sea or in a swimming pool.

I have a flat bum, it used to be toned and pert, but due to the number of hours it’s perched in my chair as I type like a fiend my next best-seller (I can dream) I’m afraid it’s let me down very badly and is an extraterrestrial to me now. If I happen coup d’oeil, usually by accident, I’m always sincerely shocked, certain it must belong to someone else and then I hit the lunges and squats for a week, which means I can’t sit down without whimpering in agony.

So to sum up, women are not happy with what they’ve got and men are more than happy with whatever they can get.

Does this mean that men (for once) are right? They love Pippa’s bum simply because it belongs to a woman?

Hugo’s just yelled, ‘Result!’ Hmm, might need to inflict pain on him later.

You know I adore and need to hear from you guys – Do you love your bum? If you’re a guy do you love your honey’s bum and if so what does it for you?

We need to know!

Due to a book launch, guesting on a blog and being driven insane by the foibles of my new shiny Mac! Desert Orchid is late this week – normal service shall be resumed as soon as possible. (Hugo’s just posted a note above my Mac – THIS MACHINE HAS NO BRAIN – USE YOUR OWN! I feel a D.I.V.O.R.C.E. coming on!)

Oh and on Monday my book, Reckless Nights In Rome is here – one of fifteen chosen, all sales on Amazon on MONDAY 16^TH JULY 2012 shall be donated to the ‘Sell Books For Steve Day’ for thriller author Steve Brown’s Bone Marrow Transplant treatment. You might find a new author you like! Please spread the word around the ‘net on Monday – you guys seriously rock!