Sometimes I need only glance at the title of a book and immediately I hate the author. This is because it is such a brilliant idea that I wish I'd thought of it myself but didn't get round to it because I was too busy checking the Coronation Street website or wondering whether I should put another wash on.

It's the same now with Richard Wilson, whose new book Can't Be Arsed: 101 Things Not To Do Before You Die makes me want to kick my own backside around the room until it's black, blue and begging for mercy.

Why didn't I write this book? It so obviously needed saying that “experiences” such as seeing the Pyramids and showering in a waterfall are overrated. Apathy is underrated, as anyone who has had to sit through a holiday bore's sightseeing checklist will tell you. I can't be arsed to do most things: it's my one specialist subject.

There is no parallel universe in which I could be persuaded of the value of white-water rafting, or having sex on an aeroplane, or wing-walking, or cheese-rolling, or naked bungee jumping, or sitting in a bathtub of baked beans. But because I couldn't be arsed, someone else has snuck in and written the book about not being arsed - which is probably what's known as poetic justice.

So today I'm going to come up with a different list, entitled: Can't Be Arsed - 29 Things That I Couldn't Give a Toss If I Never Did Again. Why 29? I couldn't be fagged thinking up 30. Right, so:

1 Attend the Glastonbury Festival. The only pleasure left to be gained from Glastonbury is watching it on television, hoping to spot people doing that hopping thing which means that they need to go to the toilet but can't face entering a small, foul plastic box that smells like Satan's colon.

2 Drink a Tequila slammer down in one. The most overhyped drinking experience ever, which merely makes people pull a gurning face before, eventually, vomiting.

3 Eat sushi. Yes, I hear you saying that it's the “ultimate healthy fast food”. But it's disgusting. And some raw fish still contain live worms.

4 Have a consultation with a life coach. Unless, that is, you're researching a book entitled How to Get £50 an Hour for Stating the Bleeding Obvious.

5 Fly on a light aircraft. Would you entrust your life to an Airfix model? It's arguably safer to ride on a pigeon's back.

6 Feign an interest in the appreciating value of someone's house, especially in a dinner party setting.

7 Be in Trafalgar Square at midnight on New Year's Eve. Unless you really enjoy faux jollity and being forcibly kissed by halitotic strangers before walking home for two hours in the pouring rain.

8 Go for a meal at a celebrity chef's restaurant. It all just feels a bit desperate.

9 Go on any trip arranged by a holiday rep, thus achieving the worst day of your holiday paying top dollar to visit a tourist hellhole - whereupon the rep addresses you as if you have learning difficulties and advises you never to get off the coach anywhere because there might be pickpockets.

10 Queue to climb the Statue of Liberty. Then get to the top, see that you're surrounded by camcording tourists and realise that all New Yorkers think you're a complete tosser.

11 Become a student. Yes, university is “great fun” but I'd rather have my teeth extracted without anaesthetic than go through it again, thanks.

12 Attend a golfing weekend. I'm sorry, but this surely has to be the very antithesis of pleasure.

13 Attend the Cannes Film Festival as a reporting journalist. A definition of Hell.

14 See Michael Jackson in concert. Ditto. For professional reasons I once did this for three consecutive nights in the Far East. Few things are more terrifiying than encountering true Wacko devotees who want to be your friend.

15 Meet the cast of Friends. A riveting Q&A in which the ones who play Monica and Rachel revealed that they were “great buddies”, and the one who plays Ross confessed that he “enjoyed music by Sting”.

16 Hear any music by Status Quo.

17 See the Sex and the City movie. That's two and a half hours of my life I'll never get back.

18 Attend a fancy dress party. Any fancy dress party.

19 Read Katie Price's novel, Crystal, which I once did for work and thus, regretfully, know that it contains sentences such as “the shorts were so far up her bum cheeks, it must have felt like she was flossing her ...”etc, etc.

20 Attend a timeshare presentation. This is for losers.

21 Receive a letter from the bank saying “You have been specially selected for a £20,000 loan!” Translation: you're not in nearly enough debt for our liking and we won't be satisfied until you're wrapped in tinfoil under an Embankment bridge.

22 Ride on a rollercoaster. So last century.

23 Eat a chocolate liqueur. They're just wrong.

24 Eat at Harry's Bar in Venice. Has anywhere been so gobsmackingly overrated?

25 Visit Marrakesh, where the work horses are in such terrible condition that I spent most of the time in tears.

26 Buy or receive scented drawer-liners.

27 Attend a spin class. The horror, the horror.

28 Have a shaggy perm. See above.

29 Go on an 18-30 holiday. Which I can't any more, anyway. Good.

Anyone who wants to buy my exciting new book should order it the moment I get a publisher. Which I'm going to sort out immediately, probably, just as soon as I've finished eating this Twix.

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