Reading Hello and their grubby ilk is as addictive for us as drinking out of the toilet is for our four legged friends, and just about as unhealthy too.
I am in deep with this vile stuff, I even read the letter to the editor.
When it is over and I have read every piece of filthy gossip and looked at every unflattering picture I can see it for the tawdry crumpled piece of dreck that it is but that doesn't help me next time I'm in the newsagent.
I see the next issue with its famous cover face smiling at me from the shelf and I find it so hard to remember how dirty I felt after I read the last one.
It was a TV celebrity worshiping friend who got me hooked.
We had knocked off early to go to the pub a million times but one a day a dangerous new element was added to our innocent debauchery.
She stopped into a newsagent for cigs, fags, tabs call them what you will and at the same time without a word bought the whole shelf of happy, clapy celeb mags including OK, Hello and all their grim brethren of famous folk followers.
Later sitting at the pub table with our lager soaking into the magazines and a dusting of that orange fart smelling stuff from the dry roasted peanuts settling on the famous faces, and other bits, on the covers I cracked one of the filthy things open and was lost.
Just look at this stuff about famous people and celebrities.
You almost can't avoid it. British TV Celebs is the first tab driping with glamour to catch my eye. I can't think of anything more soul destroying than this bunch of TV show fillers.
There they all are looking up at me with their famous little faces. I instinctively reach for the big red x of the close button with my mouse but unaccountably find that I have clicked on the face of very minor celebrity TV star and light entertainer Kelvin Fletcher instead.
Oh no I've started reading about his soap exploits on TV. I can't stop finding out about this famous persons humble start in life. I really am in celeb trouble.