A choir of angelic voices echoes over an exquisitely-lit shot of a woodland glade, with multi-coloured beams illuminating an ethereal mist as a soft breeze blows snowflakes into a swirling vortex.

The vortex spirals upwards towards an azure sky rising through the canopy of the trees; their foliage not formed from leaves but by swarms of deep-purple metallic robotic locusts resting on the branches.

A tabby cat on a leash is being walked by an oiled-up man wearing a loincloth (the man’s wearing the loincloth, not the cat…)

The cat morphs into a golden-maned lion and breaks its leash then pounces on a Roman Centurion who grapples with it; both locked together in desperate mortal combat in a struggle to the death.

Custard pours slowly from a jewel-encrusted golden chalice as a dwarf rides a unicycle on a tightrope rigged across a circus ring.

An impossibly beautiful half-clad woman is recumbent on a floating emerald green-chaise lounge watching a white mouse in top hat and tails nibble at a piece of dark chocolate.

You’ve just come in from the pub with your container of beef chow mein and a can of lager and you’re wondering what the hell it is that you are watching on TV.

The trailer for Peter Jackson’s new fantasy movie? A depiction of a 1970s prog rock star’s paranoid LSD trip? Could it perhaps be the next episode of His Dark Materials?

No relax, it’s just an advert for some bloody perfume or aftershave. Merry Christmas.