Somebody I know was recently given a bat box. It’s a box for bats. Apparently you put it in your garden and it attracts them, which is, I’m told, a good thing.

I was sceptical of exactly how this would lure passing chiroptera but can only imagine that inside the bat box is a tiny searchlight which, when lit, will project a small bat image onto a passing cloud. This – as anyone who has ever watched a Batman film will know – is the universally accepted signal for bats.

But, more importantly, the box got me thinking on the subject of superheroes. Every young boy dreams of being one and even in adulthood an idle moment spent wondering what sort of powers we would like is acceptable. Unless you happen to be a member of Fathers 4 Justice, and then it’s just plain weird.

Batman is a superhero who is different from the others. He doesn’t have any superpowers built in but instead uses gadgets and a secret cave, a bit like James Bond with added Lycra.

Most superheroes have something wrong with them. Peter Parker was bitten by a radioactive spider and acquired its traits to become your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.

He moaned at the time but he could have just as easily been bitten by a radioactive waterboatman, thus merely inheriting the power of floating on the surface of a pond without breaking the meniscus. And in a fight with the Green Goblin that is next to useless.

The Stranglers once wrote that there were “no more heroes any more”. Au contraire, there are now a whole load of new ones running around.

Chief among them are the imaginitively named Heroes on BBC2. These can walk through walls, paint the future and, in the case of the cheerleader, put their own ribs back in if they come out. One can even stop time and appear in places he really isn’t supposed to be with no real concept of how he got there. I think he was bitten by a radioactive Southeastern trains timetable.

They’re all ordinary humans with enhanced DNA (imagine the exact opposite of people who live in Chatham) but in truth humans are far too selfish to cope with superpowers. Think about it.

Let’s say you’re in a breakfast meeting with a client. Your boss is keen that you make a good impression but suddenly, just as the croissants arrive, your supersenses start tingling because there’s a bus full of nuns hanging off a nearby bridge. What do you do? Hmmm. On the one hand perilous nuns, but on the other, well, those croissants look tempting. Especially the chocolate one.

Sod it, you think, they’re only nuns. And is that a muffin?

You can’t hold down a proper job and be a superhero. That’s why Spider-Man and Superman both worked for newspapers. I like to imagine that George Monbiot, the eco-columnist for The Guardian, is a superhero locked in an eternal struggle with the UnGreen Goblin Jeremy Clarkson as he rides around the country on a turbocharged 4x4 space-surfboard shooting hippies with a laser.

For this reason I keep clear of radiation, unless you count that which supposedly comes off my mobile. Perhaps I’ll inherit its powers. It would mean I could mentally control Bluetooth and take photos and play MP3s with my face. But now I’m letting my imagination run away. Anyway, remember – with great power comes great responsibility. Well, that and a massive electricity bill.

— John Holmes is a writer and broadcaster

Explore Features

• Porsche

• BMW

• Mercedes

• Ferrari

• Bentley

• Audi

• Maserati

• Aston Martin

• Jaguar

• VW