What could have gone wrong? She had already been taken to Covent Garden at eight, Mustique at nine and the Guggenheim at ten. She chose her own designer wardrobe in Milan and Paris. The very best clowns, costumes and caterers were booked at birthdays. All the au pairs from disintegrating Balkan states were told what she liked to eat and what she didn’t. She had sat in on Mummy’s television interviews, taken violin lessons, and knew what to say about global poverty after the safari to Kenya. But already she has snorted her first line, seduced Mummy’s personal trainer and been sent home from Roedean. And she is only 13. Psychotherapy now looks inevitable.

The therapy is for the parents. At weekends in the Cotswolds they would take the labradors to the Barbara Woodhouse training course but never thought of applying the lessons to Lucinda. Maggie Mamen, a specialist in the pampered child syndrome, could tell them. “Sit” means sit for children as well as dogs. Bedtime does not vary according to television. “That’s so unfair!” does not begin a Cartesian discussion on children’s rights. “Clear up now ” is not a signal to call the au pair.

Perhaps the Victorians were right. We may want to see children; do we need to hear their dinner party views on Tony Blair, Kate Moss or Tracey Emin? We see Little Lord Fauntleroy as a precocious snob; but is today’s precious prepubescent much better? Pampering left Lord Lundy, too freely moved to tears, with no job but governing New South Wales. Indulging little Lucinda at Ascot will not buy off her tantrums; what she really needs is a long weekend in New York and unrestricted access to your credit card.