I don’t jaunt that often – if jaunt can be made into a verb; but when I do it inevitably involves some Alan Partridge excursions into budget hotels which are invariably paid for by companies who’ve commissioned me. 

Premier Inn, Hyde, the home of Britain’s biggest serial killer, Dr Shipman, where the residents were all drinking at 9am in the car park, all bizarrely wearing masks. 

Holiday Inn, Cambridge, which had as much culinary choice for a coeliac like me, as a Welsh fish and chip shop (Red Dwarf reference).

Once you’ve got past the excitement of boiling the mini kettle and spluttering at the taste of tea with UHT milk, logged into wifi and explored the bathroom, I often look at the tourist pap, the printed rack, of brochures welcoming you to Hyde (the magazines were in pieces when I thumbed through them) and Cambridge, more appealing than Hyde, as the land of bikes and pudding skies.

The Holiday Inn in Cambridge had an impressive text that was almost biblical in weight and girth and, after a cursory glance, I returned to it repeatedly to read the articles and adverts about Cambridge.

Now we know Yellow Pages and JR Hartley hark back to a past pre-internet and trolls, but my point is this.

Print has a permanence.

Okay you can’t measure its reach, you can’t adjust the campaign once it’s launched without new costs, but you can be sure it’s not dead, far from it.

Print clings to life like Theresa May to number 10. It has a barnacle-like quality that won’t be shaken even though we wonder whether it or she should let it go.

We’re on a new estate and the site plan and Persimmon brochure (produced before that £75 million chairman pay off) is well thumbed. 

When I buy a new car, I order a printed brochure online to be delivered, read through it and stack it away with the thirty other new car brochures I’ve wasted money on, and occasionally revisit.

Now if you’re looking for printed marketing materials, I know how to write them, but if you’re looking for brochure design, property brochure design, I know just the man: Jim Adams from Designers Up North, a southerner laying claims to be Manc by pouring gravy on his tea and having a brew 17 times a day.

Want to know more? Contact Jim or let me make the introduction – he’s bloody good at it too. 

Trust me.