All-male members’ clubs reflect our natural tribal desires – get over it or get your own

Ponder the excitable young male fogies hovering at the tendrils of the Garrick Club. Desperate for entry to this 19th-century institution in the heart of London’s West End, chomping at the bit for membership, their blood is up because a couple of spaces have appeared. Normally, with membership bursting at the seams at around 1,300, it’s an agonising wait for a few of the oldies to fall off their perches, or others to go broke and resign because they can’t pay their bar bills or the annual sub. T