About four years ago, during a slightly drunken conversation in which I was quizzed by a pal about what the next big thing in male grooming was (for my sins I write about the subject for a living) I replied, mischievously, that it was for ball lifts.

“You've heard about women having a little tidying up downstairs, right? Well this is the male equivalent,” I said, as he fiddled nervously with the change inside his trouser pocket. Men, I explained, sick of slack scrotums and testicles inconveniently separated by boxer seams, were lining up to have their low-hangers permanently lifted.

“Really? Balls to that!” he exclaimed with a huge guffaw and we both rolled about laughing.