Most of my readership (other than that boisterous young whippersnapper James Lindow who has probably been counting the days) will doubtless be unaware that the results of the annual FHM Sexiest Woman In The World poll have today been issued. Last year’s winner was Keira Knightley, which prompted me to post an entry commenting that while undeniably lovely, Keira simply doesn’t have the curves, the attitude, the general ‘je ne sais quoi’ that convey true sexiness. I went on to say that Oxford-based mother of four Mrs Autumn was considerably sexier.

My intention had been to write a deliberately paradoxical piece which highlighted the fundamental idiocy of ranking women according to sexiness (both in the sense that it’s an aesthetic judgement which by its nature can’t be quantified and in the sense that it’s objectification beyond which we really ought to have advanced by 2006) while simultaneously contributing to a debate which simple male atavism makes it hard to resist. At the same time I wanted to make my delicious wife feel good about herself. Alas, I overreached my meagre literary abilities and ended up with something which failed on all counts, and it remains the only posting so far that I have subsequently deleted.

This year’s winner is Jessica Alba. While she clearly handles a bikini well enough, I’m not sure she really fits the bill of Sexiest Woman In The World any more than Keira Knightley. She’s certainly a bit tasty, but not as tasty as my wife.

There. That’s the level of discourse I can just about handle.