A combination of a Sky+ box and a morbid fear stretchy-faced celebrity beauty editor Nadine Baggot means I don't often watch the adverts. But at some point over the weekend "I Could Be Happy" wafted out across my sitting room, and since every manifestation of Altered Images is to be savoured, I found myself watching an advert for soluble fibre with dozens of cheerful women swimming around in what was presumably meant to represent a giant lower intestine.
Now the last time I nearly fell off the sofa in surprise was when I first saw that deeply peculiar Sex and the City-style advert, in which four nicely-dressed ladies start blithely discussing the hardness of their stools in the middle of lunch. And then there's that Activia one where several apparently genuine women seem inexplicably happy to share the details of their intestinal gases - complete with impressions - with the entire world.
This is a new thing, isn't it? When I were a lad it was all woooooooahBodyform and "I get a lot of letters about thrush" round here. So at what point did the advertising industry unilaterally decide that, on top of all the other anxieties they've foisted upon them, the women of Britain can't even manage to poo properly?