Short-tempered

If you live outside of London, then you won't be remotely interested in today's Shortlist magazine. Even if you do live in London you probably won't be interested either. But hey.

So if you're not aware of it, Shortlist is a weekly free men's 'lifestyle' magazine given away at Tube and train stations, and therefore by definition exceptionally irritating. It's just a piece of throwaway rubbish that imagines it's setting Britain's style agenda. The arrogance is breathtaking.

But it's just got worse. They've turned 100. And don't we know it.

Never one to hide its light under a bushel, today, as well as congratulating themselves even more than usual, the magazine is trumpeting yesterday's man Jonathan Ross as its guest editor. It's a publicity stunt and usually one that works well, so hats off for that. I've been on mags where we've done it ourselves. It just means the celeb in question comes into the office for a morning and has their picture taken with various staff members, poring over proofs, looking earnestly at computer screens while and art bod points something out, mock-demanding someone brings them coffee; you know the sort of thing.

But really, who cares? Don't we already know about his comic collection, and haven't we drawn a line under the Sachsgate thing because we're bored to tears of it? We've also got Ross's fave ties, Ross's fave Japanese food, and - yawn - his favourite films and more. It's all very predictable, and it's sweet he's lauded like he's still relevant. He used to be almost impossible to get for interviews but in his new spirit of humbleness he now needs to remind people he's still here. It must be so galling for him.

But that's not the worst of it. Shortlist has now become like Heat, or like the Chris Evans Radio 1 breakfast show at its nadir, in that it endlessly celebrates itself. I think when you imagine it's you who readers are most interested in, then it's time to check yourself into a Tibetan monastery for a long, hard think.

So we've got staff makeovers, staff favourite moments and endless pictures of the bloody staff. The fashion is hilarious. Made over by - gosh - River Island - there are moody shots of the creative director, the sales director and the fashion assistant, etc., all very staged and embarrassing and all very unnecessary. I laughed out loud.

So they should listen up. Stop celebrating yourselves. You are a freesheet that is instantly tossed aside. No one keeps you or remembers you (except for the bad things) and - conceit upon conceit - no one wants a special 'collectors' edition.