As you get older, everything gets smaller. Except men's ears, according to Karoline (with a K), but definitely including the main attraction.

This conversation was prompted not by some of the unfortunate Lycra shorts on show at the Wimbledon Seniors, bur rather the Daily Mail's helpful guide to our incredible shrinking shopping basket.

Mars Bars were a foot long when she was a girl and weighed two pounds (that's about a kilo for we children of the 1980s.) Now they're 58g "and would barely merit a derisive snort from Marianne Faithfull," says K, cryptically.

Alas, some of our clients have joined the bandwagon and asked us to find a positive spin on paying more for less. Thus a number of leading brands will soon be attempting to claim that they are now easier to store, produce less CO2 and help aid portion control/weight loss.

Our imminent Good Things (Come In Smaller Packages) campaign is a travesty of lies and half-truths and, said K, "a magnificent return to the glory days of PR". At which point Anastasia (Nervosa), our principled junior, came over all wobbly and threatened to "talk to Sean Poulter". I suspect she underestimated the power of those words, finding herself instantly promoted, given a pay rise and moved to our Belgian affiliate office to work on the West Flanders Cheese Museum account. "Well worth a visit", she Tweeted pathetically a couple of days later.

I was able to snap up her now spare tickets for a return visit to Glasto. Last year I was glamping, but now that's caught on with the sort of festival-goer who drinks strawberry fruit cider, I have had to invent 'champing', which is altogether posher. If we save up, we might even be able to afford some baked beans to go with the Bolly. Either that or buy a smaller tin.