In its heyday, the unveiling of a new iPhone was the most anticipated occurrence on earth. That is no hyperbole. Its specifications were safeguarded more painstakingly than the formula for Coca-Cola. To get it first, perfectly bourgeois denizens slept rough on Fifth Avenue, Regent Street, Orchard Road, in downtown Ginza and at the Louvre pyramid. The outcomes of Super Bowls and papal conclaves were lesser news.

Sadly, by its own hand, Apple’s ‘Special Event’ each September has become diminishingly special. Save for the hardcore geeks, mass hysteria has ebbed to lacklustre curiosity. This week, the iPhone 11 entered the world – in the words of T S Eliot – not with a bang, but with a whimper.