The Lad Mag explosion of the late-Nineties said a lot about the times, reflecting the euphoria of the wedged-up late-90s while highlighting young men's desperate search for a new persona.

This year's launches tell me one thing: there's lots of very, very, very rich people out there. Just as FHM and Loaded advised blokes to blow their cash on nothing but booze, birds, gadgets and (designer) gear, the new raft of 'journals' advise on private jets and private members' clubs. The lads, it appears, have grown up.

First there was Midas which advises City types - to whose desk it's directly delivered - exactly where to spend their obscene bonuses, be it wine, art, or watches that cost more than most people's cars. It also directs them where to dine and sup, and exactly how to get in - information that money can't always buy.

Then there's Brummel which serves a similar purpose, highlighting as it does the very finest in, usually bespoke, furniture, fragrances, and shotguns. All the kit you need to pretend you're To The Manor Born essentially.