The current debate around the TV series The Crown reminds me of the great closing line from the film The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, starring James Stewart: “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”

I suppose it was an early example of what we now call Fake News, something that has become endemic in the multi-media modern age. Does it matter that much of what is broadcast in The Crown did not happen? I suppose it doesn’t if you approach the whole series as fictional entertainment, but because it is so clearly presented as the story of our current Royal Family, the risk is that many, if not most, people will take it at face value, and that may be neither fair nor healthy.

A similar challenge has arisen among all the art and antiques programmes on TV over the past 20 years or so. Have they been a good thing?

Many in the industry dislike them because in some cases they have presented a rather misleading picture of how things work. In reality, few people would buy from dealers in order to sell at auction – i.e. buying retail to sell wholesale – because it reverses the process, meaning you are more than likely to lose money. But sometimes the truth has to take a back seat in the interests of drama and entertainment.

It’s an irony that this fantasy is now referred to as Reality TV. Having said that, the burgeoning interest that these programmes have created in our wonderful industry is only to be welcomed.

One of the best things about auctions is that they bring an opportunity to tell little-known or forgotten stories. My favourite of the past week or so has been news that a copy of an early folio of Shakespeare’s plays is being offered with an estimate of £30,000-50,000.

This is a fourth folio dating to 1685 – a first folio would be priced in the millions; one sold in New York in October for nearly $10 million.

Comparatively little is known about our nation’s finest writer, but we do know that at the time of his death in 1616 no single volume existed bringing all his 36 plays together. That task, creating what is now known as the First Folio, was only completed seven years later in 1623 by the playwright’s colleagues and fellow actors, John Heminge and Henry Condell. Without them, it is unlikely that Shakespeare would enjoy the status he now has in our historical firmament, especially as without Heminge and Condell’s work, we would have lost at least 18 of the plays, including The Tempest, Twelfth Night, As You Like It and even Macbeth.

The First Folio was never guaranteed. The two actors had to spend some time acquiring the rights to publish and then at least as long persuading the publisher that it was a good idea. In the end it came out a year later than expected.

The Second Folio came out almost a decade later in 1632, with a third emerging in 1663.

That Third Folio is actually the rarest because it is believed so many copies were destroyed in the Great Fire of London three years later.

First Folios are, by comparison, easier to find and the latest tally is 235 copies survive today.

It was fascinating to discover that the latest Nobel Prize for Economics was awarded for work on auction theory. Not so concerned with chattels auctions as those for broadcast and phone bandwidth licensing, the theorists who scooped the prize needed to solve problems that arose for organisations setting out to bid hundreds of millions of pounds in what is ultimately an uncertain market.

I won’t bore you with the nuts and bolts of this; suffice to say that uncertainty tends to blunt the appetite in this sort of setting, which can mean that all interested parties lose out, so the challenge is to come up with a new type of auction that gets round this.

Ultimately, though, whatever you are selling, auctions depend on supply, demand, expert knowledge of what is being sold and a deep understanding of human nature. You don’t need a Nobel Prize to work that out, but you do need a great deal of experience to be effective as an auctioneer.

As someone who has been on the rostrum for more years than I care to remember, my first objective is to secure as good a price as I can for the consignor, but it is also important to ensure that the buyer gets what they pay for.

The best way to create demand, as a marketing guru once told me, is to show a group of people something wonderful and then tell them they can’t have it.

I’m often asked what the antiques of the future will be; what things people generally discard or fail to take care of today that they should really be keeping hold of.

While there are no guarantees of what will become collectable, you can narrow the odds by following a few rules.

Firstly, what is there around today that the public is likely to feel nostalgic about in 20 years’ time? TV programmes, music, clothing and toys are a good place to start. But while you can now collect vinyl and CDs from a couple of decades ago, these days music tends to be delivered by streaming, so what will there be to collect in 2040 on that front? Certainly well-preserved posters, limited edition memorabilia and such like.

We are already seeing branded clothing from as little as ten years ago making decent money at auction and via sites like eBay; that trend is likely to continue.

Anything deliberately issued in a limited edition or withdrawn from sale early, thereby effectively creating a limited edition, could well be a candidate, as well as technology, because it updates and moves onto the next generation so quickly. A market in old iPhones already exists.

Whatever takes your fancy, remember this: original condition is all. If you want to keep something back as an investment, where possible keep it in its original box or wrapping and as undamaged as possible. If you have the original sales paperwork – receipt, guarantee etc – to go with it, then keep that too.