NATHAN BEVAN ON THE BOX BOX.
The wide-boy dealer spends most of his time sauntering around the south of France in his Rupert The Bear-style tartan suit buying up all the bargainous objets d'art he can cram into the boot of his Aston Martin.
Then, when he gets back to Blighty, he sells it all at vastly inflated prices to idiot poshos so loaded they probably use rolls of PS20 notes to plug the leaky roofs of their ancestral country piles.
After which Lamberty no doubt decamps to his Jean Prouve-designed modern industrial kitchen table to play Jenga with the towering stacks of money he's amassed.
I know, hardly Lovejoy, is it? Where are all the heirloom-related mysteries waiting to be solved, eh? However, this life of Riley has clearly been bothering Lamberty of late, so much so that he's decided to "give something back" by scouring the Continent for artefacts to flog in order to raise funds for small, struggling charities around the UK.
Of course, he could have just rung up a handful of his over-privileged mates and asked them to chip in a couple of hundred quid each (which is no more than they'd spend on a bottle of Chateau Mouton Rothschild for their cellar anyway) but where would be the fun in that? Instead we have to suffer Auction Hero on BBC Two - because nothing says 'altruism' quite like having a prime-time telly show in which to blow your own philanthropic trumpet.
But maybe I'm being too cynical. Maybe Lamberty isn't being paid to appear on the programme or he's waived his fee, content in the knowledge that his upmarket knick-knack shop is getting a tonne of free advertising in the process.
None of which would matter one jot had Auction Hero been any good in the first place, but it was a 24-carat stinker - something the Beeb itself also seemed to have sussed given how all three episodes were hurriedly shunted out across consecutive nights last week. And each proved more crushingly dull and formulaic than the one which preceded it - consisting as they did of Lamberty leaving his designer Aladdin's cave to make sad faces in front of proles so brassic they'd been forced to build their community centre with old chewing gum and Rizla papers.
He'd then pop off on a soft-top jolly to Avignon to pick up a few baubles with which to fatten their coffers, leading to much grateful forelock tugging and "Fank you, Mr Lamberty, sir" mumbled reverence.
It's a shame too because Lamberty's last screen outing - the 'Apprentice meets Dragons' Den' mash-up that was Four Rooms - actually made for top viewing.
This, however, just made me feel forlorn.
Wide boy antiques flogger Andrew Lamberty