I’m thinking of hiring a male escort. They’re all the rage, apparently, with growing numbers of British women paying for their services because they are too busy for conventional relationships.

Researchers found that the market for male escorts has tripled in the past five years, eclipsing the rise in demand for female escorts.

It doesn’t necessarily involve sex - many women are forking out simply for companionship, for meals out, trips to the theatre or cinema and other social occasions.

It hadn’t entered my head to get one but, having mulled it over, I quite like the idea of having an Aidan Turner lookalike on my arm when I pop to Tesco. Not only would he give me a bit of kudos but he could also help unload the shopping. I would buy him a T-shirt three sizes too small for the occasion.

The only problem with that is that there’s no guarantee that I’d bump into someone I knew. I’m on nodding terms with staff in the supermarket, but they don’t know me so they might think I had an exceptionally hunky son.

So I’m thinking that maybe parents’ evening would be a better option. He could hover, smouldering, his hand on my shoulder, while I discussed my daughter’s work. I’d be seen by so many people, and if anyone asked who he was I would simply smile mysteriously.

I don’t think my husband would mind. In fact he’d be quite pleased to have someone step in and carry out these onerous duties.

I’m not sure how much detail these escort agencies provide, but it would be a real bonus to find someone who was handy around the house and could do a spot of DIY while waiting for me to get ready for a night out.

A school reunion would be the perfect occasion for a male escort, especially if my ex-boyfriend was there. Like a lot of men his age, he’s probably gone to seed - most likely bald with a bit of a paunch. It would be so satisfying to flaunt a 21st century Adonis in his face.

Seriously, though, it is a sad reflection of modern life that so many of us - particularly women in their thirties and forties - haven’t got time for real romance, for slugging through the process of meeting and getting to know people.

I can understand that. If I were single, I honestly don’t think I could be bothered. If my husband decides to call it a day - as well he might being a bored middle-aged man who craves a Harley Davidson and a stint in the Playboy mansion - I’ll look no further than my cats for company. They’re loving, cuddly and fun, and they’re a lot cheaper than a male escort.