WHO says banks don’t care? They may have brought you, I, and the rest of the country to the brink of financial ruin, but that doesn’t mean they’re heartless, money-grabbing fat cats.

Far from it indeed, as was brought to my attention this week when, waiting patiently in line at my bank, the NatWest, in Cornmarket, I spotted the following brochure: ‘Your Relationship Manager is only ever a call or email away.’ And, I’m sure, like many other NatWest customers in this city, I was impressed.

How wonderful I thought, and apt too in these difficult times, that my bank should take this initiative, particularly since money issues remain the number one cause of many marital break-ups.

Yet I couldn’t see any takers. I thought there’d be a queue of couples snaking out the door, especially since Relate, the marriage guidance service, doesn’t come cheap, and neither do professional relationship counsellers.

However, I put it down to the fact it was Wednesday lunchtime. After all, who wants to air their dirty laundry in public when the world and his wife, like you, are waiting for a free cashier?

Which struck me as a tad unfortunate since the last few months have been rather rough on my girlfriend and I, and any help to smooth over these troubled waters would have been greatly appreciated.

I’d even rehearsed what I was going to say, assuming I had: (a) the courage to request an appointment; and(b) an explanation as to why I alone, out of all their customers, had been left feeling impotent, helpless and emasculated in the face of the global financial meltdown.

Imagining I’d be ushered into a small but comfortingly decorated side room, I thought I’d be asked, first, my PIN number and then my problem.

“Well, I won’t pull any punches,” I’d decided I’d reply, “but it’s my ‘mojo’. Maybe it’s my age, or work pressures, but I was hoping you’d be able to help?”

To which my NatWest relationship manager would sympathetically reply: “Well, let me see. You do have an overdraft, a considerable one at that, and in our experience this can often affect a man’s ability to ‘perform’. So I tell you what we’re going to do – from now on it’ll be interest free... you know, just until you... feel like a man again!”

Naive? Certainly. But I could feel the tears welling up as I began to open the discreet brochure which advertised this service.

Imagine then my shock and crippling loss of self-worth when the so-called ‘lifeline’ turned out to be nothing more than an advertisement for a new kind of ‘privileged’ account (you’ve got to boast a household income of £100,000 or more to qualify).

Suffice to say, I shall be contacting Trading Standards (while my girlfriend calls Relate...) to complain.