I’M AN avid reader. I love books, I read newspapers and, very occasionally, I pick up one of the glossy magazines for women. And quickly realise that’s a few quid and 15 minutes I’m never going to get back.

Every time I flick through such a mag, I realise I have no interest in reading about these people (I should probably say celebrities, but that may be pushing it a bit).

All the women’s mags seem to be the same. A flash of celebrity, a splash of un-affordable fashion, a pinch of diet advice and a scattering of relationship guidance – mix it up and voila! One completely unmemorable magazine charging a ridiculous cover price that could be better spent paying off the credit cards.

There are the real-life reader’s stories, which do on occasion make for half-decent reading. However, one decent article doth not a worthwhile publication make. Although despite my own personal annoyance, there is clearly a big market for these magazines – I can think of at least a dozen littering the shelves of newsagents.

Is it pure unadulterated escapism? Do the mounds of gossip in the likes of Heat deliver a relief from our own seemingly mundane existences? I have to say when I do pluck one from the shelves of WH Smiths I know of many real life stories that would put those printed in the shade. Thankfully, I have no desire to call any of these magazines and open the floodgates – much to the annoyance of a friend in Scotland who works as a freelance journalist trying to sell stories to women’s magazines.

Anyway, the point of my rant above is that I often think I am in a small minority feeling this way. I don’t care why Paris Hilton is in the UK or want to know how to lose 5lbs in five seconds. I know many people may want to know this information, indeed, it may be a vital part of their daily lives, but I’d rather be told about something slightly more… well… important to the world today.

Deriding a celeb for being too skinny/too fat one week then slapping them on the front cover and gushing about how wonderful they are in the ‘real story’ interview the next – it’s hypocritical and they all know it.

So far I’ve been unable to find a happy medium between Glamour and The Economist.

It was suggested to me recently that I start my own – a reasonable suggestion and to be fair it has crossed my mind. However, that feeling of being in a minority makes me think I may have a slight readership problem if I were to line the pages purely with articles, features and news that I’d be interested to read.

I’m quite sure that the glossies carry out regular market research and assess the requirements of their target audiences, as any professional outfit should do. In which case it’s even more likely that my own effort (if it ever made it off the computer) would lie untouched on the shelf.

My comments have been harsh. There are on occasion, well-researched and informative articles in some of these magazines which do delve into topics of relevance in the bigger picture of today’s world. For example, female genital mutilation and drug trafficking are just two of the fairly recent features I’ve happened across.

It just seems such a shame that these little gems are surrounded by things such as “How to get him and keep him” and 25 pages of fashion that I will never afford and that I will never squeeze my very normal shape into – more importantly I don’t care whether I can or not.

•AFTER last week’s article, a reader on the internet version referred to me as a Picasso. Not being a massive art fan, I was intrigued. My knowledge of Picasso is limited, but the words abstract, odd and often complex spring to mind.

A quick search of Google images and my suspicions were confirmed. I’m unsure if this is indeed an accurate description of me, but it’s certainly one I’ve never had before.