Do you like Picasso's paintings? Me neither. The trouble is, you're not supposed to say such things in these parts, given that the image of the whole city of Malaga depends on Pablo's art being considered the work of a universally adored genius.
This very subject came up in conversation this week and, as is customary on these occasions, I mentioned the fact that, to tell the truth, Picasso's work leaves me a bit cold. Astonishingly, everybody present agreed - the first time I can ever remember that happening. Normally, people will express incredulity, or worse - suggest you're only saying such nonsense in order to be provocative. Consequently, it's often expedient not to offer an opinion, hoping that the conversation will move on to another topic forthwith - as long as it's not Aretha Franklin or Amy Winehouse because - oh, crumbs - they leave you cold too. This has to stop. We should all be allowed to express an opinion even if it flies in the face of the generally accepted wisdom.
To this end, I'd like to offer a few sacred cows up for critical sacrifice here in the hope that we can begin to say what we really feel about the stuff we're supposed to like but secretly don't.
Apart from the aforementioned trinity, then, up next for no particular reason is Citizen Kane. I sat all the way through it one Saturday afternoon as a young man, sorely wishing I'd taken my granddad's advice and watched the wrestling with him instead. I understand what full and half Nelsons are which is more than I can say for the bewildering plot of the Orson Welles classic.
Next, sushi. It's quite clearly absolutely horrible and how it became a respected foodstuff is beyond me. In fact, it's simply impossible to believe that anybody on the face of the planet would prefer sushi to a fishfinger sandwich if offered the choice including, I suspect, Japanese people.
Imagine by John Lennon is next on the list. Leaving aside the wanton hypocrisy of sentiment, the tune doesn't sound too hot either. Nor, come to think of it, does the piano or the singing.
And what about the TV series Friends? Millions and millions of adoring fans are evidently utterly spellbound by something that never fails to set my teeth on edge. Can you possibly imagine sharing an apartment with Chandler? He probably likes sushi.
Limited space here means we can't explore this subject any further just now but the plan is to write about quite the opposite next week: guilty pleasures - things we're not supposed to like but we do.
That's if I haven't been unceremoniously expelled from Malaga in the meantime as a consequence of the earlier Picasso confession.