Bob achieved fame in 2003 on a reality TV show called The Bachelor when, in a twist identical to the UK scandal involving Ulrika "4x4" Johnson and Lance Gerard-Wright, he ended-up bonking and later marrying the programme's presenter, Rebecca Budig.

Today, Bob has morphed into a successful TV host. He's a roving reporter for the The View (America's version of Loose Women), has a programme on TLC called Date My House, and gets asked to do stuff for good causes - with people like me going along for the ride.

The first picture shows me (on the right), bronzed-Adonis-Bob (centre), and our third team-member Jeff Weber (a record producer, left). We're setting off on a three-hour journey around LA collecting various items of swag, photographing landmarks, and taking part in a splendidly silly series of contests, all of them involving the Ford Flex.

We visited Downtown, Chinatown, and Hollywood. We patronised the piano bar from Swingers, the Guitar Center on Sunset Boulevard, and Katsuya, a cocktail joint on the Walk of Fame. We got "papped"; Bob did lots of autographs; and at the end of it all, we wound-up at a big after-party that continued long into the night.

And so we come to the second photograph, which shows my kitchen table the following morning. It contains (among other things) three designer T-shirts, a dress, two pairs of sunglasses, a watch, headphones, some nifty computer equipment, and what looks like half the cosmetics counter from the local branch of Macy's.

As you've probably guessed, those were the contents of a goodie bag given to me, and all of the "celebrity charity scavenger hunt's" other entrants - including Heroes stars Hayden Panettiere and Greg Grunberg.

Celebrity freebies like this are part of a glorious, old Hollywood tradition. They are however, facing a potentially-critical threat, which means that photos like this may be a dying breed.

In late 2006, the US tax-man announced a crackdown on any jewellery, clothes and cars that famous people are gifted. From now on, they'd have to be declared in IRS returns and taxed as a form of income. The result was devastating. Before you could say "Louis Vuitton", the Oscars scrapped its $100,000 goodie bags. Virtually every other major award show followed suit.

Today all really big freebies have gone underground (the legendary luxury brand "gifting suites" are now set up in secret), while goodie bags have been toned-down. Mine may look gargantuan - but a few years back, it would once have been twice the size.

I'm not sure who the real winner is from all this, since luxury brands now miss important marketing opportunities, while the IRS just looks chippy - and I didn't hear anyone cheering when they nailed Wesley Snipes for tax evasion (he got three years, but has been bailed pending an appeal).

The old rule of "one system for freeloading celebs, another for hardworking taxpayers" wasn't exactly fair - but at least it served the purpose of helping idols look the part. And now I've taken a short journey on this delightful part of the gravy train that accompanies fame, that suddenly seems somehow important.