I have written before about how magazine interviews with female celebrities have set new lows in vapidity.
I thought I'd become inured to seeing five pages given over to journalists genuflecting before stardom and scattering tiny morsels of platitudinal vacuities from the A-lister's mouth, such as how their new film is really about them discovering that their inner self is a complex soul which has to learn to confront its own disconcerting uniqueness.
But it turns out the barrel I thought had been thoroughly scraped had a false bottom.
And this month's Esquire magazine's interview with Transformers star Megan Fox (brought to my attention by the gleefully trouble-making cult mag Vice) found it.
I'd describe Fox as a busty, pouty siren with a pretty face. Esquire prefers to say "her skin is the colour the moon possesses in the thin air of northern winters...
"The brow is in perfect balance, like a problem of logic, like a visual labyrinth. It's... sublime, the patterns of waves crisscrossing a lake, snow avalanching down the side of a mountain, an elaborately camouflaged butterfly."
There is a lot of description, perhaps because when Fox speaks, she says things like:
"I would like to uncover the secrets of the universe. I like believing.
"I believe in aliens... I am childlike in my spirit and I want to believe in fairy tales. The Loch Ness monster - there's something to it. There's the Bell Witch. What distracts me from my reality is Bigfoot."
Fair point. Who can concentrate on ironing with Bigfoot on their mind 24/7?