If you ask me, it's a sad day when the red tops look up J-Lo's skirt and report back that she has "dimpled thighs". It's a sad day for J-Lo and a sad day for all those dimpled thighs who just want to get on with their business quietly. "I never bother anyone when I go about my dimpling," one such thigh says. "I dimple in the mornings, and then tend to read for the afternoon. I like Philip Roth."

So I feel sad for the dimpled thighs and I feel sad for J-Lo because, aside from anything else, it is no fun having the red-tops up your skirt. Indeed, I had The Sun up my skirt just yesterday morning and it was no fun at all – extremely itchy, in fact – plus it took some shaking out.

Eventually, I managed to lose it somewhere on the Holloway Road, and it wasn't happy, just as none of the red tops will ever be happy until all women's arses are under 24-hour surveillance.

Indeed, as Daily Mail reporters would have told us if they hadn't been too busy trying to get up Charlotte Church's skirt: "We love looking at women's bums and saying why they're all wrong". It also added: "Trousers won't help you as we are all specially trained to ascend the inside leg using ropes and picks".

Cellulite is, of course, very wrong; so very wrong, in fact, that it only affects 96 per cent of adult women. Indeed, I have just had a quick feel of my own arse and, if forced to describe it, would say it most resembles a cheap saggy bag – a Lidl carrier, say – filled with wet dumplings. Oh, my. What to do? I could try full-time body hatred, I suppose, but I gave that a go the once, didn't like it at all, and was no good at it. Whole days would pass when I would simply forget to hate my body, which is useless, isn't it?

I guess I'm just going to have to muddle along with this hideously abnormal condition which affects nearly everyone although, that said, I am quite tempted by the "Slimming Panty" from Scala which bills itself as "the only lingerie with micro-fibre active bio-crystals built into the yarn to help fight cellulite". Help fight? With whom? The SAS?