For years now, people who are too posh to shop have been getting posh shoppers to do it for them.

You can find personal shoppers at all the top department stores, willing to present a private room of clothes they think might suit you — and all you have to do is point (and pay).

At Harrods (there is only one Harrods, not counting all the airport ones), they go a step further: they’ll bring the clothes to your office so you can point without ever leaving the comfort of your own swivel chair.

And if you can’t even be bothered to point, I’m sure they’d bring someone to do that as well. For a minimum opening spend of £2,500.

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Now, they’re going yet another step further. What was Harrods by Appointment has now morphed into Harrods by Appointment Beyond — meaning that, as well as your wardrobe, your wedding, your new kitchen and what to buy your wife for her 40th (because it’s not easy when she already has the clothes, the jewels, the chihuahua and the new boobs), they’ll also sort out your holiday.

There has been no official launch of the travel service, but for the past six months, the Harrods shoppers have been extending their global contacts, and they are now going public as the ultimate bespoke travel agency.

Public, of course, is completely the wrong word. This is not, after all, First Choice.

Of the 1,500 or so clients already on the Harrods books — a global jet-setting group of CEOs, sportsmen, sheikhs and, ahem, British politicians (and you thought duck islands were extravagant) — not many are after a seven-day all-inclusive in Malaga.

Let me give you some examples of the sort of holiday they’ve been asked to arrange recently. There was the twenty­something It girl whose personal shopper has become, like, totally her best friend.

When the It girl announced that she wanted to go to Courchevel, and that she wanted a different ski outfit every day, her “best friend” picked out the clothes, packed her 24 suitcases and arranged the entire trip — from the unprecedented excess-baggage issues to the best table for lunch on piste each day.

You might assume, as I did, that the “best friend” is actually a manipulative, scheming, two-faced sales genius taking the poor petal and her black Amex for a ride (or, in this case, schuss), but you’d be wrong: the “best friend” is on strict orders from the It girl’s mum to keep the spending in line. It was, after all, only 24 suitcases.

Then there was the Malaysian client whose dog had died. Obviously, it was a special type of dog, the sort with more middle names than an Eton schoolboy. And obviously the client was very, very upset.

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