To say it’s an obsession is an understatement; it’s more of a Kurt Russell in Deathproof type of stalker-like worship and it’s been like this ever since I first laid eyes on her in those 90s glossies. The virgin blonde hair, that Renaissance-like facial symmetry, I’d be here all day if I outlined every micro-point of her appeal. And last night was no different; Laura Bailey was looking nothing short of perfection.

They say that idols never falter and in my eyes, Laura is no exception. Ruling the roost at an event at the Southbank Centre lined with glitzy editors and Phoebe Philo duplicates, she looked an image of splendour, ticking all the right beauty boxes – a matte blood-stained lip, squared off nails to match (appropriately ahead of the autumn/winter 2013’s lips n’ tips trend), cheekbones as chiselled as her Pilates-honed bod, her Cinderella hair neatly folded away at the nape of her neck. Not a hair out of place and not a criticism to be made. Honestly, I present you this picture and defy you not to agree that she’s something of a visionary masterpiece. I will stop now.