If Crowe’s codpiece can go, so should my Shania CD

Things i have in the house that i should get rid of: a shania Twain CD, old magazines, dead computers and a Vhs boxed set of seinfeld.

Things that Russell Crowe has finally decided to chuck out: a dinosaur head, two life-size ‘conversation piece’ horses, 28 watches and a replica Roman chariot.

Russell Crowe may be the manliest man the world has ever known. Even before he decided to auction off his jockstrap for charity in his Art of Divorce auction, this could be unsettling.

For instance, when he came here to trace his scottish heritage and visit Duncarron Fort, he examined a clan chief’s residence with the intensity of someone calculating the odds of rustling up a couple of mates and staging a coup d’état.

Crowe has the soul of an artiste but also the manner of a nightclub security guard.

The first time i interviewed Mr Crowe, he introduced himself by chucking a packet of fags onto the table then growling, ‘hello, Loser’ to me.

SpEnDing an hour with Russell Crowe is like spending an hour chatting cautiously to a shaggy, twinkly lion. At the back of your mind are the massive hissy fits he threw when an interviewer dared to query his remarkable irish-Mancunian accent when playing lead Merry Man in the film Robin hood, and the year BAFTA wouldn’t let him read out his poetry in its entirety.

‘if in doubt, front it out’ seems to be his main motto, especially when he went on a kayaking trip a few years ago, and got lost after dark.

in the end, he had to be rescued by the Us Coastguard, ten miles off course, but later tweeted ‘grand adventure, eh’ as if this was what he meant to do all along.

This is a bit like the time i got confused by the Liverpool turnoffs on the M62 and pretended that driving through Toxteth past several burning cars was ‘a shortcut’.

Auctioning off his goods and chattels has been the most regular thing Russell Crowe has done in years.

Admittedly, celebrities get a lot of free stuff thrust at them, and not everyone has a cricket cap belonging to an actual Bodyline cricketer lying around the house, but everyone can relate to the impulse to stop owning stuff before it starts owning you.

it’s a spring clean for the soul; a chance for a fresh start without having to check every morning to make sure the maid has remembered to polish the hooves of your two equine conversation pieces.

so it is thrilling that Mr Crowe’s auction has raised £2.6million for a good cause, although i do slightly wonder what will happen when the bidders sober up and realise that they are going to have to explain to their families why they now own a sword, a pair of black leather wrist cuffs and a codpiece.

never mind: there are certain bars in Edinburgh that will be only too happy to take them off your hands.