ONE tabloid called it a "loo frenzy." I like that. I can relate to it. I've been caught up in many situations which could easily fit that description.

I remember one in particular. It took place in a sea-front hotel in Saltburn on the north-east coast. It lasted almost the entire evening and involved my best-friend, her bloke, another bloke and a girl from our sixth-form. But, this being the ladies' loo, only us girls were present.

It was a long drawn-out battle - verbal, not physical. No blows were exchanged, but many insults were flung, many tears were shed and many shoulders were cried on.

And, as I'm sure most women will agree, that's what ladies' loos are all about. As well as being a potential war zone - especially when two love rivals lock eyes in front of the mirror - they are a port in a storm - a place where women retreat with their mates when they have been dumped, cheated or used.

It's not just us common people who play out our love lives in the lavatories. Celebrities too let go of their emotions in front of the hand basins.

A toilet in a London night club was apparently the scene of a cat fight over our very own Gareth Gates. The supposed 'loo frenzy' - which allegedly started when one woman gave the other "death stares" - involved busty Jordan and a love-rival.

I don't know how much truth there is in the story, but that type of eye contact is commonplace in front of those long mirrors. That's one of the reasons why women go to the toilet in packs. The gents may be hostile, but glance the wrong way in the ladies' and you may not live to sip another spritzer.

And how many fictional scenes in TV shows like Sex and the City have taken place in the loos? They are not only the scene of cat fights and drowned sorrows, but places where juicy gossip can be passed on. Who fancies who, who has split up with who, who is cheating on who.

As a venue for tittle tattle, they are so vital that, often, your choice of pub or restaurant is influenced by the size and comfort of the ladies'.

Hotels are by far the best - soft-focus mirrors that make you look glam well into the early hours and loads of space so you and your mates can all visit at once and have a good natter. Work loos are the worst, with their strip lights, off-white Formica, and constant interruptions. Cry in one of those and you end up looking like Dracula,s sister.

I really miss the days when three or four of us would pile into the same cubicle because we didn't want to stop gossiping, not even for a moment.

The local equivalent of world summits were held every night in the loos in our village pub. Sadly, we're all too old to get away with that now and far too mature for a loo frenzy. So we shout to each other under the doors and reserve the death stares for our husbands.