"It seems," says Wayne, "they don't realise there's such a thing as a critter that just won't quit."

I used to recall that line occasionally as a source of inspiration when times were tough and the going hard and quotes from poets weren't quite hitting the spot.

Now I can only think that Reader's Digest executives use The Searchers as a training film.

With no encouragement or feedback from me, Reader's Digest envelopes intended to entice the unwary keep arriving. And is it my imagination or are they getting bigger? The most recent was A4 size – what I used to call foolscap until I intercepted strange looks from younger colleagues – and yellow.

It was marked: "Urgent and time sensitive. Important. Personalised contents are uniquely numbered and intended for the sole use of the person named. Open at once."

They meant me. Honestly. Be still, my beating heart, or, to put it another way, what kind of idiot do they think I am? (A rhetorical question, by the way.)

The magazine's functionaries can only be working, against all evidence, on the John Wayne principle that one day I'll drop my guard and that instead of swearing and shredding the envelope, contents unread, into small pieces for recycling, I'll sign up to whatever they're offering.

To quote Wayne again, twice even: "The hell I will… That'll be the day."

If I can avoid the snares of distressed Nigerian princes seeking my bank account number because they would like to deposit $20m in it, a win in a Scandinavian lottery which I have not entered but need send only £10,000 to cover expenses to win £10m, and a man at the door offering a year's supply of fish for £100, cash now, first delivery next week, I can resist the blandishments of Reader's Digest.

Tempting, of course, when the latest mailing gave me six chances to win up to £250,000, or a new car or, if I skim-read the pile of information correctly, a home cinema, even if there were conditions: "This statement is issued on the assumption that you would be willing to accept payments worth up to and including £250,000 should you win."

Oh, I think I might be tempted to do that – if I thought there was any chance of a win. I'm sure people have won Reader's Digest competitions. But in a busy and active life I've never met one.

Not expecting to be the first, I put the yellow A4 and its contents through the shredder and into the compost heap.

I hope that knowing their efforts have helped make the world a better, greener, place will be some compensation to those nice people at Reader's Digest for failing once again to change my life – and, purely incidentally, squeeze a subscription out of me.