The Bentley factory, Crewe: a large, red-tanned hide is mounted with pride on the wall opposite various seat options it can adorn.

It’s an enormous piece of leather, to show you how unblemished and downright high on quality it is.

Its size is impressive. Certainly, I wouldn’t have wanted to be the person responsible for removing it from its male, Spanish and, from what little I know of bulls, probably quite grumpy owner.

He and his ilk are chosen over other bovines with good reason.

They become chief interpreters of the arse-Bentley interface because they mooch around vast Andalusian plains where farmers don’t use barbed wire that could damage the leather, and because bulls don’t get the stretch marks cows do.

Any blemishes are usually caused by fighting, because boys will be boys and, like most of us, they’re unaware of the futility of their existence – and Maserati now offers a silk-based alternative to leather upholstery that their sides will end up as a lumbar support (with massage function).