If there’s one sure way to stop me gossiping forever, it’s the unlikely headline: “People who spread rumours have a reproductive advantage, study finds.”

Suddenly, I don’t care that Sophie’s on the fat jabs, that Simon’s having an affair with his podiatrist and Jo’s lying about the promotion. Suddenly, every woman will be maintaining an eerie silence over the garden fence. Although once you read the study in question – a study published in the journal of Evolutionary Psychological Science last week – it may lay any fears to rest.

As it turns out, gossiping doesn’t so much make us more fertile as give us an evolutionary advantage. Inveterate gossipers find it easier to find and keep partners, apparently, which thereby provides more opportunities to procreate.

What interested me most, however, wasn’t the bizarre primary findings of the study, compiled by the University of Silesia, but the secondary analysis.

According to the paper, spreading rumours also gives us an “alternative strategy compared to overt and physical aggression”. In layman’s terms, that means that gossiping is a far healthier way of letting off steam, of decompressing. Which only adds to the litany of wellness benefits connected with the… sport? Pastime? One thing’s for sure: it should no longer be branded a “guilty pleasure”.

Earlier this year research found gossiping about your boss was actively good for you, and a “bonding” experience with coworkers, while a previous study suggested it might even help stave off dementia. It turns out it’s basically the red wine of human foibles: once demonised, now essentially a wellness tool, recommended by doctors. And if it’s not going to spontaneously make me procreate, I intend to get stuck in.

Is there anything more delicious, after all, than the moment a husband, wife, girlfriend or boyfriend messages “I have gossip”? You might as well tell me you’re coming over with an entire chilled New York-style cheesecake: it’ll have exactly the same effect on my salivary glands.

I love the whole ceremony of it, too. The lips pressed tightly shut, until they open and out it comes. The repeated theatrical gasps of: “I know!” The follow-up questions, which invariably nobody can answer but will at least form the foundation of a million spurious hypotheses.

And whilst it’s always a bonus if there’s a grain of truth to the initial tale, sometimes the fabricated can feel just as good as the real thing. It takes a lot of creativity, after all, to turn a nothing into something; a lot of craftsmanship and teamwork to embroider and embellish that something before passing it on to the next person. And now that we know it’s basically kale juice for the soul? Ladies and gentlemen, let the rumour mongering begin.