Domestic household with a problem. Both the front and backdoor locks have jammed. A ladder is being used to gain entry to the house through a side window. Over-worked wife and complacent teenage son are both looking at you. They are looking hard. They are looking at you because you are a "man" and a "man" is half of the word "handyman".

You begin to formulate a response to the problem by pointing out that your real area of expertise is the 19th-century novel, and locks have changed somewhat since that period.

You try to think of an amusing story that will entertain your friends about the jammed locks and how your family has to climb through the window. While practising the story on one of your neighbours, she asks you, "have you tried WD-40?".

"Yeah, of course I have, Suzie. No luck there."

You race home, find the WD-40 in the garage, spray it into the lock and on the key, and you give the key a little turn. The key turns as smoothly as silk. It's a beautiful sensation. Encouraged by your triumph you try it on the backdoor. Same result, perfect.

But here's where the "man" genius kicks in.

You race down to the second-hand shop, you buy two old locks, you take them home, pull them apart with a screwdriver, scatter a few bits and pieces around the floor.

"Hello over-worked wife, hello complacent teenage son. Sorry about the mess, I've just been replacing the ... 'tumblers' in the lock cavity.

"Should be right now. Ah, yes, that's fixed it. Look at that, good as new."

Over-worked wife smiles. She did marry the right guy.

Complacent son makes direct eye contact with you.

"Awesome Dad, you're the man."

Yeah, I'm the man.

Simon Bourke is an ACM journalist