MY PAL has never been one for chasing older women. They run faster than their younger sisters, because they're more likely to wear sensible shoes.

He did catch The Wicked Witch of the East, who treats her men like her killer heels - easy to walk on once you get the hang of it.

I've read surveys that claim women would trample their grannies to save their favourite shoes in a fire. And I don't believe that to be a load of cobblers, either, knowing the footwear fetish of the women in my own family.

Big heels are The Wicked Witch's thing, making it all the easier to look down on my pal, but they come with some sole searching.

She is a big girl - her shadow weighs more than my pal - and every time she tries to suck in her tummy her ankles swell and her toes stick out from her peep-toed shoes like squashed Wall's pork links.

When we were in Dubai, the Arabs took one look at her ample girth and those heels and accused her of trying to puncture their oil pipelines.

At their daughter's wedding, The Wicked Witch made my pal's life hell in her search for the right shoes.

It seems none of the 20 pairs residing in her wardrobe was the correct shade of white.

Our elder son Thomas is getting married in a fortnight - plus we are currently digging to Australia turning the basement into a wee granny flat for the mother-in-law, Jeanie - so you can imagine Chez Stirling is chaos.

But at least I was spared the anguish suffered by my pal over the wife's white wedding slippers. No, Nancy had trouble finding the right shade of black.

I'd already mortgaged the house for the designer mother-of-the-groom outfit, but apparently that didn't stretch to her matching shoes and the matching bag.

And don't forget the matching hat, which she tells me is called a fascinator (and, believe it, me and the bank manager are truly fascinated by the whole event).

Anyway, during her search for the perfect pumps, she said matter-of-factly: "You know, darling (that's me, by the way), my finding the right shoes would go a long way to making this world a less dangerous place."

To be honest, she didn't utter those exact words, but you don't survive 35 years in marriage without learning to decipher the looks.

So Nancy got her black heels - and, I kid you not, she brought another pair home on Saturday, "just in case".

And what expensive designer gear will the groom, his old man, and the best man brother John Boy be modelling?

Whatever we're wearing, the shoes and the rest will have to be back in the Kilts 4U hire shop in Hillington by 5pm on the Monday.

Now why can't women do the same and save us men all that grief? Aye, right.

Nancy's granny Sarah Kennedy, Jeanie's mum, used to say you may as well be out of the world as out of the fashion and her granddaughters certainly took the message to heart.

Yet what price vanity? We spend £7billion a year on footwear, yet the Society of Chiropodists report more than a third of UK women have bought shoes knowing they don't fit properly and are guaranteed to hurt like blazes.

The Wicked Witch was wearing shoes two sizes too small for her fortnightly Sex In The City lunch with her coven.

One of them reported exciting results after greeting her partner wearing only thigh-length patent black leather boots, a black basque, and a black eye mask.

The rest decided to give it a try.

When my pal came through the door and clocked The Wicked Witch, he said: "What's for dinner, Batman?" He found out how painful those boots were.