Commonly known as Chiswick-on-Sea, Rock in Cornwall is where the mums and dads of ‘gap ya’ students go to soak up the seaside. Ugly bungalows have been transformed into bigger, ugly bungalows but with large glass windows. This affords them an air of respectability and immediately trebles the price…

Teenagers are packed off for the summer here, to ‘struggle by’ in six bedroom holiday homes, with only a housekeeper and Waitrose deliveries every other day to survive. They moan about the dodgy wifi, lack of Nandos and getting sand in the footwell of their city cars.

Chomping over some toast, jam and clotted cream for breakfast this morning, the Cornish farm looked lovelier than ever. My host chose this moment to tell me a wonderful story about a London couple who came to pick up their darling childlet in their Range Rover.

The track to the farm is rutted and scarred but perfectly passible in a Ford Fiesta. The owner of the Range Rover arrived in a huff, stepped out of the car and then complained bitterly about the damage it has caused to his 4×4. His wheels were indeed, splattered in cow shit.

And such is the problem facing the Land Rover marketing people. Range Rovers used to be for drivers who actually lived in the country and didn’t mind getting their wheels dirty. Now, unfortunately, people who have holiday homes in Cornwall buy them too.

They choose polar white paint, add a personalised number plate and drive like buffoons. Suddenly, owning a brilliant vehicle like a Rangey isn’t so cool. In fact, it just says one thing about the driver.

You’re a complete twat.