And I'm not alone. I think most men feel this way.
It's not the ceremonies themselves, but the stars' arrivals that 'seem to fascinate so many women'
As far as we're concerned, the Oscars are among the smuggest, least edifying spectacles on Earth.

Where else would a bunch of excessively remunerated thespians be positively encouraged to get all squiffy and overemotional and deliver heartfelt but brain-dead speeches about the environment, the war in Iraq and the great job their agents are doing?

Oh, yes, the Golden Globes. How could I forget?

Until fairly recently, it was relatively easy to ignore "awards season", largely because most of it happens on the other side of the world, in the middle of the night, and no one sensible over here ever paid it more than five minutes attention, and then only if a Brit won something big.

But the now we're into the age of rolling entertainment news channels, bitchy showbiz blogs and internet perma-coverage, red-carpet events seem inescapable and the PR campaigns of toothy, bubble-headed actresses are accorded the same weight and reverence, and often way more space, than crucial geopolitical developments.

Thing is, as far as we can tell, you women take rather a different approach to all this.
Chances are you'll be spending a good portion of this morning mooning over photographs of botoxed Americans shamelessly disporting themselves in inappropriate frocks for the benefit of ranks of photographers in ill-fitting dinner jackets.

Women, for some reason, seem to regard awards ceremonies as a spectator sport to rival more traditionally masculine pursuits, like football.

In fact, that's not quite right. It's not the ceremonies themselves, which both sexes, when push comes to shove (as it doesn't nearly often enough), can agree are insufferably boring.

It's the arrivals at the ceremonies that so many of you seem to find so fascinating.
I find the slavering coverage of red-carpet events baffling, and I think a lot of men agree with me.

There was a time, of course, when this might not have been the case, when rarely glimpsed international glamourpusses and their studly paramours (I'm thinking Ava Gardner and Frank Sinatra here, not Brangelina) made gracious and fleeting appearances in their gorgeous gowns and impeccably tailored suits.

Now, more often than not it's a load of goggle-eyed sitcom stars wearing borrowed jewellery and being rated on their outfits by American men with spray-tans, sculpted hair and body-modifications. Talk about pot and kettle. This is what you think of as entertainment?

As for the nebulous fashion element, it's a non-starter. Where's the glamour when even the most famous and beautiful are dressed by professional stylists? How can someone be a style icon if they didn't even pick out their own frock?
But that's not the thing I find most curious and distressing about the fascination with red carpets.

The thing I find most curious and distressing is the fact that the level of a person's interest in the tacky publicity shenanigans that occur outside the venue often appears to work in directly inverse proportion to their interest in the artform that is notionally being celebrated.

Most of the people following the comings and goings on the red carpet have probably seen one, at best, of the five movies nominated for best film.

How could it be otherwise? If you're the sort of person who is genuinely interested in whatever gaudy gown whoever skinny B-list actress has borrowed from whichever fashion conglomerate in the hope of promoting whichever international DVD release, then you're probably not the sort of person who wants to sit through a two-and-a-half hour epic about the oil industry in turn of the century California.

Or a harrowing French flick about a paralysed magazine editor, a grisly contemporary Western about a drug deal gone wrong or a sombre portrayal of the effects of Alzheimer's on an ageing Canadian woman, all of which were the subjects of films nominated at yesterday's awards.

In other words, you are watching a PR event just for the sheer hell of watching a PR event. And sorry, but that's just plain weird.