Bring back the briefcase!

The final straw was seeing Jeremy Hunt wearing one shortly before the summer recess – and not just when riding his bicycle. He was actually walking down the street with the thing strapped to his back.

Yes, of course, it is practical, but the now ubiquitous mini-backpack is so hideous that it belongs in the same category of naffness as men who wear flip-flops outside their own home or when not staying in a rented villa on the Costas.

Once the preserve of hippies in the 1960s or gap-year students in the 1980s, these far smaller versions of backpacks (or what used to be known as rucksacks) have infiltrated modern Britain with hardly a nod in direction of style or decorum.

The backpack market in Britain is now worth around £90 million, presumably as the result of an explosion in sales of what’s described variously as a ‘day bag’ or ‘office bag’.

And they have largely confined the briefcase to oblivion. So rarely does one see a proper leather briefcase on a bus or train that, if you do, the bearer comes across as some sort of demented P.G. Wodehouse character or a member of the Rees-Mogg family.

I get it, of course I do, especially if you live in a city and take public transport. The other day, I bought loads of tasty stuff from Whole Foods in Kensington High Street for an impromptu picnic in the park. I boarded a crowded tube and put the large bag down on the floor for the duration of the journey. Big mistake. By the time I got to my destination, the bag and its contents were nowhere to be seen, with the thief presumably tucking merrily into my avocado and salsa dip with posh crisps on the side.