IF only women would spend more time in the kitchen, accept men the way they are, put themselves last and learn to put up with their lot without complaining so much, the world would be a much better place.

That was, more or less, in a nutshell the argument put forward by Sir Bob Geldof in his Channel 4 documentary this week.

Geldof always makes for entertaining TV. Unlike crisply dressed politicians or TV presenters, he looks as if he has slept in a skip with a family of badgers. And he is eloquent and passionate and rarely predictable.

When he called on the world to save the starving millions in Ethiopia he was practically elevated to sainthood. His dignified behaviour after he was cuckolded and publicly humiliated by his wife Paula Yates, eventually going on to raise, as his own, the child left orphaned when Yates and her boyfriend died, finally confirmed in many people's eyes that his halo was in the bag.

But his latest crusade, to make it more difficult for people to divorce, highlights his more human failings. Geldof's own messy marriage break-up and his experience of the courts has clearly affected his judgement.

And, as a celebrity, he has been given a very powerful, public platform to exorcise his private demons.

Few would argue that children benefit from living with two caring parents in one loving family unit. But Geldof is in little doubt as to which sex is to blame for the breakdown of this ideal. And here's a clue: they've got uteruses.

Geldof is in danger of assuming all estranged wives are like Paula Yates, whilst all fathers in conflict with ex-wives are selfless Saint Bobs.

He points out that it is mostly women who ask for divorce but, other than accusing us of carelessly abandoning marriage in search of excitement and the pursuit of happiness at any cost, he doesn't investigate why.

Like Geldof, I believe marriage is a serious commitment. But can he really not envisage a situation where a woman might reasonably ask for a divorce as the least painful of all the painful options?

What would he make of my friend whose repeatedly unfaithful alcoholic husband took their children out in the car when he was drunk and couldn't see what he had done wrong? Luckily, earning a good wage as a health visitor, she is making a great job of raising their two children on her own. Which is just as well, since their father doesn't contribute anything.

And what about domestic violence? Should women put up with that too?

Conveniently ignoring the role of abuse and violence in broken relationships, Geldof complains about the excessive aspirations of today's women, even hinting that if we cooked more for our men, everyone would be happier. It's sexy, he says, for a bloke to come home from work to find his dinner on the table.

Geldof has opened up an important debate on the breakdown of family life. But, rather than focusing on making things better for children, he has turned it into a bitter war of men against women.

Geldof is clearly angry. He is angry with society. He is angry with the courts. He is angry with the government. But, most of all, you can't help feeling he is angry with Paula.

And, sad though this is, women don't deserve to be demonised because of it.