Raised eyebrows

I have a large streak of scepticism. Probably why some people don't take to me - they get the sense I'll never quite believe what they say, even if it's true. And whatever they're enthusiastic about, I might rubbish it.

Well, I'm not quite as bad as that, but I do weigh up what people say very carefully and raise my eyebrows at anything that sounds implausible or far-fetched, or plain ridiculous*. Some of the things I'm sceptical about:

• Any variety of "alternative remedies"
• Politicians' promises
• Gurus who've achieved perpetual bliss and enlightenment
• Adverts offering me an improved memory, boundless self-confidence, increased energy and vitality etc
• Estate agents' descriptions of houses
• Estimates by tradespeople
• So-called sex changes
• Phone calls claiming my internet connection is faulty
• Stories told in celebrity memoirs
• Businesses that claim to be protecting the environment
• People who say DIY is easy
• Lucrative investment opportunities
• Conspiracy theories

I haven't always been such a sceptic. I was absurdly gullible as a youngster, instantly believing what people said to me and then being taken aback to find they were talking nonsense - or plain lying. Years of painful exposure to smooth talkers and devious rogues forced me to be a bit more questioning.

It seems to me that lying is now seen as quite normal, and people in all walks of life lie about virtually everything, assuming nobody will check the facts and uncover the reality. Celebrities in particular spin their personal back stories every which way, and I take all their dramatic confessions with a bucketful of salt.

But being sceptical doesn't stop me enjoying life. It doesn't mean I'm a nihilist or a spoilsport or a curmudgeon. I savour my chocolate truffles and ice cream and pinot grigio and juicy novels and rousing music like anyone else. I'm just no longer such an innocent abroad.

* Despite my habitual scepticism, there are some things I always believe. Like claims of rape, misogyny and domestic violence.

Object lesson

I think couples are often objectified in the same way as women are objectified. People make judgments on the basis of what the couple looks like, with little or no knowledge of what actually goes on "inside" the relationship.

A relationship dismissed as sterile, or unbalanced, or destructive, by casual observers might actually be a very happy and fulfilling relationship, but only the couple themselves know that, while the naysayers have got it entirely wrong.

But people do love to judge other people's relationships, seemingly quite oblivious that they're almost certainly misreading them and simply making an arse of themselves.

Celebrity couples in particular seem to attract this vacuous opinionising, but couples everywhere have been subjected to it at one time or another. I'm sure we all know couples whose friends or relatives have said "That'll never work. They'll have split up in six months", and then lo and behold, ten years later they're still going strong.

Apart from anything else, how people behave in public can be very different from how they behave in private, in the seclusion of their own household, where they can be completely natural and uninhibited. In public they may change their behaviour dramatically, putting on a show of politeness or generosity or open-mindedness (or for that matter naked aggression) that's totally false.

In which case making impassioned judgments on the basis of what couples are choosing to show you is not only superficial but gullible.

Even the smartest guesses can never plumb the infinite mystery of human pairings.

The crack of doom

I really do wonder how outwardly sensible, rational people could have believed the absurd Doomsday prophecies of some 89-year-old Bible-basher from Oakland, California.

A belief so passionate that some of them spent their life savings, sold their homes and gave up their jobs to publicise the prophecy and prepare for imminent Armageddon at 6pm on May 21.

Could they seriously have expected that on the appointed day they would be wafted up to heaven in a state of rapture while non-believers were wiped out and sent to hell by the wrath of God?

What were these devotees taking? Some potent hallucinogenic? Or were they just so desperate for someone to give their lives a meaning they latched on to the strident certainties of this grey-haired old nutter and his bizarre mathematical calculations?

Were they not aware of the umpteen Doomsday prophecies that have sunk like a stone while everyday life continues unaffected? Did it not occur to them that the avuncular Harold Camping was getting an impressive income out of his loopy prophecies, prophecies no more credible than the trite ramblings of the local palm-reader?

Had it not struck them that if God wanted to end the world, He or She would probably do it whenever the impulse arose and not at some deadline calculated by an elderly preacher in California?

It was painful to watch these misguided souls trying to reorient themselves after the witching hour came and went and absolutely nothing happened except a thousand more Big Macs and Chevrolets.

They were gob-smacked by the anti-climax, frantically groping for an explanation. Maybe it was another test from God to persevere in their faith? Maybe they misunderstood something? Maybe they were using the wrong calendar? Maybe they'd been swindled? No no, that last possibility was foul-mouthed blasphemy.

The omniscient Harold Camping was not on hand with the definitive explanation however. He went missing as soon as the Apocalypse went missing and hasn't been seen since. Perhaps he was the only one raptured up to heaven?

And if you think it's all just a hilarious con trick, think again. Lyn Benedetto from Antelope Valley, California, was arrested for attempted murder-suicide after slitting the throats and wrists of her two daughters, because she was convinced the world was ending.

PS: Mr Camping has re-emerged to say how embarrassed he is that he got it wrong, and that the correct date for Doomsday is in fact October 21. Sure, and ferrets can play chess.

Pic: Harold Camping

The groping guru

If you thought Swami Korianda was just a wild flight of the imagination, think again. A self-proclaimed guru and healer who molested and raped numerous women has just been jailed for ten years.

Michael Lyons posed as the illustrious Mohan Singh, a spiritual sage who was skilled in osteopathy, chiropractic, acupuncture and nutrition.

He gathered plenty of followers from around the world, particularly women, who were taken in by his plausible manner and supposed esoteric wisdom.

But women who were given one of his special treatments often found that he would then casually feel them up or rape them.

His bizarre justifications for these attacks would be hilarious if they weren't also shockingly exploitative. He told one woman he was groping that he was "feeling her energy pulse." He explained to another that he was "enlightening her with his organic penis." Yet another was told he was "unblocking her chakras."

Even more disturbing was the fact that sometimes other women were not only witnessing the attacks but encouraging them, such was their naive trust in his sincerity.

Unfortunately such so-called gurus can set up their bogus cults and attract legions of gullible followers without any need for official vetting or approval. All they have to do is convince a few people of their spiritual powers and they in turn will convince thousands of others.

Those who are desperate to revitalise empty and dissatisfying lives will suspend disbelief and idolise such charlatans without asking too many questions about their abilities or claims.

Knowing he was wealthy enough to have homes in London, Manchester, Los Angeles and Miami would only be further evidence that his mystical knowledge had brought well-deserved material success.

It just proves once again that the best guide in life is your own inner instincts and not some glamorous, charismatic holy man who simply wants to get his rocks off. With you.

Pic: Michael Lyons

Out to lunch

All those beleaguered companies out there are relying on their clear thinking and business acumen to get them through the recession, right? Er, not always - some of them are turning to psychics, mediums and astrologers.

They're so unsure of their own judgment, they're resorting to the supernatural to show them the way forward. Trade is booming for those who predict the future and what life has in store for you.

People like Russell Grant and the British Astrological and Psychic Society say consultations by business types like bankers and lawyers have jumped by up to 30 per cent since the recession started.

They want to know whether to make a major change to their business, whether a key decision is the right one, or even whether to sack their staff.

As one of the psychics says, instead of paying consultants £20,000 a month for often dubious advice, why not pay a lot less for a psychic who might actually be more help?

Well, it's certainly cheaper, but to imagine a psychic's advice is more reliable than your own conclusions is bizarre. Of course it must be nerve-racking trying to make vital business decisions in the midst of economic chaos, but to believe some smooth-talking soothsayer can magically point you in the right direction is bonkers.

I'd like to know how many of the psychics' clients have actually made the right decisions and kept their businesses afloat, and how many haven't. I suspect it would be roughly 50/50, much the same as if the psychics' special powers had never been called on.

And if all these hundreds of psychics were apparently unable to predict the recession in the first place, can we really have much faith that they can miraculously foresee what's coming next?