SO ANYWAY. I’m very taken with the rash of adverts on our screens at the minute shilling those collectable series of model classic cars, rally cars and - best of all - a part work which allows you to build your very own miniature model of the Cutty Sark. Only a hundred instalments at 5 pounds a pop.

The reason I’m fascinated by these adverts is because all three campaigns feature a different late-twenties/early-thirties guy with a groovy shirt and expensive haircut lovingly fondling a tiny E-Type Jag, Escort Cosworth or expertly splicing a miniature mainbrace. It’s genius. The ads scream, “Look! It’s not just anoraked berks and 40 year-old virgins who live with their mums that buy these things you know!”.

My favourite ad is the one for the tiny rally cars. The groover stands in his shiny, minimalist, and no doubt expensive, flat, lining his extensive collection diagonally on a set of glass and chrome shelves.

This guy’s quite clearly a handsome, rich chap. I can’t help but picture him on a Friday night, taking home his latest conquest that he’s met in a nightclub. Imagine her look of horror upon entering the flat as she spins, gazing in horror at shelf after shelf of tiny toy cars. And then the blessed relief she feels as our hero buries his big shiny Patrick Bateman axe into her reeling skull.