Another day in paradise for pawn stars who don’t like Phil Collins

I’m looking for shiny things.’ In Marbella, he had taken to a yellow 1961 Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud II, bought as a rust bucket for ten grand by a car specialist, who chopped the roof off and turned it into a gleaming convertible.

Dan found a collector who was willing to pay £290,000. That is ridiculous.

Not long ago, a clapped-out Roller was good for nothing but being dumped into a swimming pool at a rock star party.

Not that Phil Collins ever indulged in such wild excesses. Maybe that was his big mistake.

Like the gold watch and the limo, this show was all flash and no substance. We met Adam, a 28-year-old male model who was reluctantly pawning his Rolex Daytona, a present from his parents.

Adam claimed he wanted the money to put a deposit on a house. I suspect the producers just wanted Adam and his cheekbones in front of the camera, and he was happy to oblige.

A caption at the end of the

LAST NIGHT’S TV

Million Pound Pawn HHIII Sarah Beeny’s Little House, Big Plans HHIII

You have to feel sorry for our dear old Phil Collins. For no obvious reason, while his contemporaries have matured into national treasures, he’s become a bit of a joke.

It doesn’t matter that his first solo hit, In The Air Tonight, is arguably the greatest single of the 1980s. And no one remembers that he flew from London to Philadelphia to play at Live Aid twice, or that he won an oscar for his last big hit, You’ll Be In My Heart.

Queen opened the show at Buckingham Palace last Saturday. Elton, Macca, Cliff, Rod, Mick and the rest are all knights. Yet somehow, Phil Collins is just a punchline. What has he done so wrong?

It’s true that You Can’t Hurry Love is an annoyingly jaunty number, but surely, as rock ’n’ roll crimes go, it’s not as bad as David Bowie’s Nazi salute.

When dealer Dan, from Sheffield, was offered a gold watch for sale on Million Pound Pawn (ITV), he joked that it had been devalued by Phil’s signature on the leather strap. ‘I don’t know if I want Phil Collins on my wrist,’ he complained.

Maybe Phil can take comfort from the fact that Dan has no taste and is proud of it.

That’s how he makes his living. ‘I’m a trained magpie,’ he said, ‘and

programme revealed that he had not bought the house . . . and he’d got his watch back.

Every item pawned on screen had a very visible price tag. This ring was worth £534, that gold chain was £3,270. It must be what pawn stars call ‘the money shot’.

Property developer Sarah

Beeny was intent on discovering the price of every home conversion on her Little House, Big Plans (C4).

In Cheadle in the North-West, the cost of an extension to a half-timbered 1930s semi was £200,000. The result was much more space, but the exterior looked like two shipping containers — one black, one white — had been bolted to the brickwork.

Architect Damion Burrows compared it to a modernist art gallery. I’d say it looked more like badly stacked Lego, but perhaps that is the same thing. I bet the neighbours are thrilled.

Sarah was busy in Wiltshire, offering advice on an extension to a couple who did not intend to listen to a word she said.

She was especially keen they should have a fitted carpet. This, she said, would encourage Sam and Leah’s four teenage children to sit on the floor.

The look Leah gave her said quite plainly: ‘You’re mad.’ or, as Phil would say: There Must Be Some Misunderstanding.