Last month, my sister and her hubby popped over to see me here in Australia. To call Paul a petrolhead doesn’t quite nail it, or at least suggests that the language needs a word that better describes his excessive level of vehicular fanaticism. Petrolcrackhead, perhaps. Anyhow, wherever we took Paul, he would spend more time in the carpark outside the tourist attraction than he did inside it.

But much as we chuckled about his passion and knowledge, I was reminded that when you point a finger at someone, three point back at yourself. Stick me in front of a TV when there is a commercial break on, and I am insufferable. I am Paul in a car park. Who cares about the TV show we’re watching? I find myself far more animated when the ads come on. Some might say that I view TV shows as the filler that needs to play out until we get to the ads.

I’m  currently hooked on Celebrity Traitors, and as soon as the ads come on, I go into a strange kind of hyperfocus.

I analyse lighting, performance, dialogue, messaging, ideas. I don’t hold back. I look at sports betting ads where a crowd of people are cheering on a team or a........

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