In the 21st Century, it's strangely easy to point the figure at men for being useless. Perry notes that 80pc of crime is perpetrated by men – but it goes unsaid that men make up 87pc of police officers who risk their lives trying to put that right. Likewise, a modern army of men do the dangerous jobs that many people – both men and women – don't seem to want.

Furthermore, in these days when most of us have swapped virile manual trades for more servile desk-bound roles, Grylls offers us an armchair escape into the kind of men we’d like to be, if we weren’t chained to a mortgage and two kids by our soft-soap office hands.

But to call men "useless" is to be part of the problem, not the solution. One of the major issues with our approach to male mental health at the moment is that we try to solve it with a feminised approach: sit down on the couch and open up. Men aren't necessarily comfortable with that. Instead of insulting them for being emotionally stunted, we need to talk to them – and listen – in a different way.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells

IF I should die, think only this of me;
  That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
  In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,         5
  Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's breathing English air,
  Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
 
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
  A pulse in the eternal mind, no less  10
    Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
  And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
    In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.