Mr Muscle might be a great help around the home but most chaps are still big wimps when it comes to domestic chores. A recent survey confirms that while men might deign to

do the dishes occasionally - apparently their favourite task is the oh-so-arduous feat of filling up the powder compartment in a dishwasher - they still shirk from the likes of bathroom cleaning duties. However, there is one area of housework that is often a men-only zone: pressing shirts. It never ceases to amaze women how even the most duster-shy guy will stir himself when it comes to ironing his favourite Ted Baker or Thomas Pink number.

That's because a lot of blokes are incredibly pernickety about the appearance of their shirts, applying a ruthless military precision to the task. Ensuring sleeve creases are applied at exactly the same point is a matter of no small pride to some. Apparently there is an art to it. They all have their own little rules and rituals. Mention shirt-ironing in the pub and you will halt the most testosterone-charged chat mid-banter as chaps start to argue with one another about the correct order in which a shirt should be ironed.

Chris Sullivan, Style Editor of GQ magazine, points out: ''The problem is that if you have expensive shirts you worry that you might ruin them if your ironing isn't up to scratch.'' He does, however, admit: ''I personally only used to iron my shirts in the places where you could see them. Now I reckon my time is too precious and just pay to have them laundered. I get about three or four done at a time, and it only costs about #1.50 each.'' The demand for ironing services increases as more and more people want to turn their leisure hours into quality time, although Raymond Trainer, owner of Glasgow laundry specialists The Iron Lady, reckons that for some people there is still a stigma attached to sending out personal items of clothing. ''But it's not a luxury service,'' he says. ''Our customers are working couples, disabled people and pensioners.''

The Iron Lady has a free pick-up service, delivering door-to-door, but some companies offer even greater perks. One firm in London will send a Chippendale lookalike, dressed only in a frilly apron, to your home to do your ironing for you. Absolute Entertainers insist the pressing standards of their semi-clad iron men are up to scratch. ''Of course, they all do their own ironing at home. They do a pretty good job,'' sniffed a spokeswoman. Unfortunately, at #50 an hour, ffm balked at my request to assess the skills of these muscle men.

Instead, we put a randomly assembled group of guys to the test. Our ''volunteers'' - or should that be our press gang - are: Laurence Stove, 29, who works in sales export and distribution for marine equipment company Simpson Laurence Ltd; Jonathan Walls, 23, a sales rep for a lighting shop; Peter Taylor, 22, a Business Centre Manager for Curries; and Justin Fisher, 31, a freelance computer analyst.

Accompanied by a chorus of giggles from the other lads, Laurence Stove grins: ''Collars and cuffs, that's all that matters. Then I do the arms and front, back and front.'' ''The fronts, back, collar and sleeves,'' reckons Peter. ''No, it's collar, back, front, sleeves and cuffs,'' says Justin. ''The sleeves and the shoulder,'' interjects Jonathan, displaying advanced knowledge by introducing a hitherto unmentioned shirt section, adding: ''Then fronts and back - and the collar will just happen at some random point.''

Initially reluctant to discuss their ironing habits, they soon warm to the them. ''Try to do the right-front panel first, otherwise when you chuck it over the board you end up treading on it,'' is Laurence's top tip. Laurence did not start ironing his shirts until he was 18, when his mother refused to do them. ''I was about 14, for the same reason,'' says Peter. ''My mum probably did try to show me how to, but I ignored her.''

Justin was a spoiled boy. ''My mum comes from a majorly pre-feminist era and thinks ironing is women's work, so I never had to. But when I was 20 and working away from home and living with a girlfriend she didn't agree with that at all.''

''I started ironing when I was about 15,'' announces Jonathan. ''I had to do it for the whole family. My mother thought ironing was women's work but she suddenly noticed she didn't have any daughters and I got lumbered with the ironing.'' They've all experienced ironing disasters. Lawrence has scorched his wife Lulu's blouse, Justin dropped an iron on a carpet and burned a hole in it, while Peter admits a few shirts have been ruined ''when you get that funny, icky stuff coming out of the iron when it's too hot''.

''Well, I've had the dreaded double crease,'' says Jonathan, solemnly. The others are mystified. ''You know, the double crease down the sleeve that's impossible to iron out.'' Lawrence shakes his head: ''I've never had one.'' ''Hah! I've had multiple double creases!'' boasts Justin.

Laurence, Peter and Jonathan all have to wear a crisply-ironed shirt to work every day, but Justin rarely has to. Peter loathes the task: ''I just iron one shirt at a time.'' Jonathan tackles it in bulk: ''You can stick an album on and get a whole pile done while you listen to it.''

Laurence agrees he can find ironing relaxing. ''It's mind-numbing, good thinking time,'' he says, and then hesitantly adds: ''Lulu will iron a shirt for me now and then. However, when we got married it was in our wedding vows that she wasn't going to iron during our marriage. The minister actually read that out during the service.'' The others are shocked by this revelation. He winks at them. ''We cut a deal over it. Anyway, I'd rather do ironing than any other kind of housework.''

''I don't have to do anything else,'' shrugs Peter. ''I live with students and no-one is very houseproud.''

Justin has listened with mounting disgust. ''I would rather drink a bottle of piss than do the ironing,'' he insists in manly tones. I tell

him that, contrary to this claim, a little birdy had told me that, in fact,

he even irons duvet covers. ''Well, I don't like sleeping on crinkly sheets,'' he protests.

Our motley crew has been rounded up and herded over to The Iron Lady's headquarters in an industrial unit at Maryhill. They're suspicious and seem fearful that the female workers milling about are there to tease them. ''Is this some sort of Girl Power set-up?'' quizzes Laurence, as

the lads are led towards a row of heavy-duty ironing boards and four crumpled white dress shirts. Their wariness of displaying any domestic prowess intensifies when Raymond Trainer calls out: ''If any of you

are any good, I'll give you a job.'' Doubtless, he meant to encourage

the men, but unfortunately his comments have a negative effect on

their performance.

None the less, the guys do seem delighted to be messing about with the industrial gear. The twisting cables and hiss of steam are all macho enough to allay their fears of looking too houseproud and they set to with a great deal of gusto, but not much finesse. Their audience is unimpressed. Three full-time ''Iron Ladies'', who have taken a back seat for this demonstration, smirk among themselves. ''A slow hand clap, I think,'' mutters one, a suggestion which, thankfully, is not taken up.

Supervisor Tricia Alexander watches with a critical gaze. Her tried and tested format is ''iron the cuffs inside, then the sleeves, the right front panel, the back panels, the other front and then the collar last''.

She shakes her head at the sight of Jonathan ironing the back of the shirt first and positively purses her lips as she watches Peter wrestle his shirt onto the table, vainly trying to pin it flat. ''Peter looks as if he isn't too sure about what he is doing,'' she notes.

Raymond winces as Justin irons the outside of the collar instead of the inside: ''That leads to wear on the garment,'' he warns. Tricia reckons Laurence is an ironing novice and refuses to believe my assurances to the contrary. ''I'm sure he's never ironed a shirt in his life,'' she says.

Meanwhile, Jonathan's technique has improved. ''He can do the interfacing,'' marvels Tricia. Raymond nods his admiration. ''That's good board use,'' he says with all the gravity of an Olympic commentator. Apparently some Iron Lady operatives can press a shirt in 30 seconds. Our lads are tardier. It takes them about 10 minutes before the shirts pass muster with Tricia, who promptly gives them a swift masterclass.

They leave, suitably enlightened. They now know how to iron a shirt according to the book. None the less, Laurence nips back for the company's rate card which he eyes up approvingly. He reckons it's time to place his shirts into the hands of experts; it would seem that at long last his ironing days are over.