MALE VALIDATION is hard to come by these days: Modern Man is not required to kill his dinner, tame his transport, or even arm wrestle for his wife. We are peacocks without feathers; bulls without heifers. But not for much longer.

A few days ago, in my local electronics superstore, I discovered the 21st-century way for male respect to be sought and returned. The moment came as I wheeled my new 42in plasma TV into the lift. The doors closed, and suddenly I felt a dozen envious eyes upon me. I glanced around, seeing only other men holding plastic bags of DVDs — and other items less valuable than my monster-sized screen. My fists balled as the lift groaned downwards. Adrenaline began to seep from my pores. And then, as I was preparing to be robbed or beaten — probably both — the men did something wholly unexpected: they broke into applause.

“Dude,” said one of my new friends, his voice thick with admiration. “Sweet TV.”

Suddenly, I was a tribal chief, returning from the morning’s hunt. I imagined drums beating and children dancing. This was not a TV at my feet, but a slain wildebeest — to be held aloft and carried victoriously to the fire! Yes, I had completed an ancient rite of manhood, and proven my skill with a spear — or, in this case, an American Express card.

Of course, the TV has always been a curiously male product: perhaps because there is such an obvious relationship between size and enjoyment. But in recent years, plasma and LCD technologies have added two new male bragging rights: flatness and clarity. All of which costs money; that other favoured male indicator of status.

This year alone market analysts expect more than 4.4 million 30in-plus flatscreens to be sold in the US, a 69 per cent increase on 2005. That’s easily a $13 billion market; more when you add the accessories (cables and insurance can add a third to a TV’s price).

Nowhere is this trend more obvious than in Los Angeles. This is a place where men have typically obsessed over their cars. Now, with global warming on everyone’s minds, they are obsessing over their TVs.

And because TVs are considered part of “home remodelling” projects — funded by home equity loans — even the wives and girlfriends are in on it. What’s more, TV installation, like car maintenance, provides an eternity of conversation for those more interested in achieving, say, true 1080p HD, than discussing their feelings.

Both of my immediate neighbours now have flatscreen TV sets built into every bathroom, as well as every bedroom (not to mention the kitchen and “media room”). Further up the street, a $5 million home features several plasma TV on poles in the garden, by the pool. When it’s sunny (that is to say, always) the images they show are virtually impossible to see. That’s not the point, of course.

But is the flatscreen a harmless indulgence? Not according to the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power. “Large plasma TVs can use as much energy as a refrigerator,” it said in a recent warning, adding that TVs are one of the main factors putting Los Angeles at risk of a blackout. TVs suck power in other ways, too. They help to warm up homes, resulting in more air conditioning being used. Meanwhile, many TVs are never switched off, remaining instead in “standby” mode.

But TV buying season has just begun — it runs from August until January — and there are no signs of a guilt-induced slowdown.

I just spent the weekend at the home of a film director friend in Santa Barbara. When I told him about my new plasma, he nodded quietly and shrugged. Then he disclosed that he had just ordered the new 103in model from Panasonic — so large (the TV measures 9ft by 6ft and 450lb) that it will need its own shipping container, complete with shock-absorbent suspension system. The price was $70,000, as much as a top-end Mercedes Benz.

“Do you think it will fit on my wall downstairs?” he asked me, casually.

All of a sudden, I was back in the jungle, drums beating, paint on my face. My reaction was involuntary — pure male instinct. Like the men at the electronics superstore, I was paralysed by unconditional respect: 103in! “Dude,” I said, ignoring his question. “Sweet TV.”

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