Hi. I don't know if you've heard of me, but I'm the best. I can do anything I want to, and I attract only love. This is because I am a creature of love. Not only that, but the more love I give away, the more I have. Basically, I could fill a barn with vibrations of love.

If I ever heard these words tumble from a mouth, I would pop off and make a cup of tea, just so I could come back and drop it in horror. People know it doesn't make sense, that's why meaningless, self-congratulatory rubbish like this is usually hidden away. People who hurl upbeat but confusing imagery at themselves usually keep it restricted to a bedroom mirror.

The quotes from the first paragraph were based on genuine affirmations by Louise L Hay, author of books detailing the powers of self-actualisation and, if her Amazon reviews are anything to go by, commander of a devoted legion of empowered fragile souls. I dislike Hay, but she's hardly alone. The internet responds to a Google-fuelled nudge with a gush of thinkless positivity. Noel Edmonds even claims that his cosmic optimism saw him through a divorce.

Edmonds may find himself overruled by the newly legislated Law of Attraction. Subsection 1, paragraph c states that when you ask the universe for things, the universe will act like a mechanical chicken in a pier-end glass cabinet and pop out a plastic universe egg containing your dreams. There is, of course, a catch with which the method's failures can be blamed. You have to behave like the kind of person who'd receive the things you're asking for - which I can only imagine means pacing in front of your front door, tapping your watch, and saying "my universe egg should be here by now".

The Apprentice is full of people like this - not one of them would admit to being anything other than the best and most deserving human in the world. You'd be hard pushed to get them to say what they're the best at, because having an area of specialisation must seem futile when you're the best at everything in the world there is. Failure is casually blamed on others, because that's the only rational explanation. Breathtaking hubris can be justified and dismissed with comments like: "Some people say I'm arrogant. I take that as a compliment." Word up, sausage. Arrogance is a bad thing. You can't reclaim it, like it's an insult that's being used to oppress you. It's an insult that's being used in a brave attempt to stop you acting like such a relentless dick.

Everyone has issues with their self-esteem. Billions of people sabotage themselves with fear and inaction. Even people who have the kind of appearance you or I would kill for can despise mirrors, because they're a shrivelling reminder of a body that isn't what it was, or could be. If you want to feel less like a isolated anomaly, the answer isn't to become the Cosmic Ambassador of Cuddling Yourself. It's to realise that we're just the flimsy, adorable bloodsacs that sci-fi aliens are constantly saying we are. You're no more an infinite well of love than you are a hopeless reject. In fact, thinking you're the worst is basically saying you're the best at being bad. So snap out of it, you massive show-off.

Just have sensible opinions, instead of attempting to gouge out a hole in the universe for your made-up facts. Don't say "I'm beautiful". Say "I think I'm nice". Don't say "I'm the best", just work out what you're good at. And for God's sake, don't say "I'm an infinite well of love," say "I'm a bit shit, yeah. But if everyone dropped their front for just one day and admitted how terrifying life is, we'd spend a week sobbing and apologising to strangers." And what a week that'd be. I reckon everyone'd get laid.

· Jon Blyth is a video games reviewer

jon@disappointment.com