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VICTORIA GALLAGHER-O'HOULIHANstruggles with the conception of Inception

AFTER the last celebrity drug bust, my mother insisted I attend a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. Just to be on the safe side. And, you know, to be seen.

We won’t discuss the horrors of that evening. But ew. I took one look at the assembled group and decided they were not the class of addict I was accustomed to. Having never felt a burning desire to work around the docks or canals, the networking opportunities were limited. It did not help that I had never touched the stuff in the first place; my boxercise trainer would go completely bananas.

These past weeks, however, I've started to see the appeal. If only it was acceptable to walk into an NA meeting and say: "Hello, my name is Victoria and I am confused by Inception."

There, I’ve said it. Can I now start rebuilding my life?

Let's be clear about something, would-be haters: the plot is a dawdle. I've seen Melrose Placereruns and played The Prisoner of Zelda. I can follow an "only a dream" story with my eyes closed, thank you very much.

I also happen to think that, despite being really old now, Leonardo DiCaprio has still got it. I've even sat through The Aviator.

Still, I just don't get it. I know Christopher Nolan is the most genius director around, but really, what's he thinking? How can the man who was clever enough to make The Dark Knight(featuring the gorgeous Heath Ledger's best actoring ever) make a film as pointless as Inception? It's not a sequel. It's not a prequel. It's not a remake. It's not a Marvel spin-off. It's not even a "retooling". Just what is it supposed to be? A pilot or something?

If that wasn’t bad enough, it’s also the worst date movie of all time. Period.

Maybe I'm being unfair. Maybe plainer, less attractive women than I are quite happy to spend an evening listening to "If Freud and Marx were the architects of the 20th century, Christopher Nolan is the architect of the new millennium. All other films are dead to me." Maybe some women like it when their gentleman companion states that Inceptionis now the film by which all future films must be judged, yet fails to notice that the Bois d'Orange I'm using sets a new standard in complexion brightening.

And maybe – look, I've seen internet sites that cater to weirder preferences – some girls enjoy dates that end in a bonfire of your companion's entire DVD collection. "I won't be needing these anymore," he cried, throwing Withnail and Ionto the flames.

Until this moment I had been willing to overlook our differences. Perhaps someday, I thought, I’ll think that scratching yourself with keys is adorable. And maybe I can bring myself to see past the fact that he says dramedies are better than romdrams.

Still, sat-box settings are one thing; a pyre is quite another. I mean, who the hell wants to be around when he realizes he's destroyed both his copies of Heat?