Paddington Bear has friends in high places. In November Richard Branson will take him up in a hot air balloon when the tycoon attempts yet another trip around the world. The jaunt will be just another in what has been a lifetime of highs for the internationally-esteemed bear who celebrates a momentous milestone this week.
Newspaper tributes have afforded the uninitiated (where have you guys been for the past 40 years?) an intriguing insight into the bear's enduring appeal.
"Anarchic and irreverent," said the Daily Telegraph; "a sophisticated bear" gushed the Sunday Times.
Among some fans he is viewed as the last remaining English eccentric, still afloat in a sea of mediocre uniformity. Perversely, he scoffs marmalade while his peers get stuck into honey. Who else, devotees inquire, could wear a big wide-brimmed hat and an untrendy duffle coat and get away with it?
Donning a decidedly unhip anorak has after all spelt near disaster for at least one prominent Irish politician who only rose to the top when he got rid of it. Among Paddington's many achievements is the fact that he gained worldwide popularity while managing to give the much-maligned duffle coat a good name.
But we might never have known Paddington if it weren't for Michael Bond, a BBC cameraman who 40 years ago went shopping for last-minute Christmas gifts and found a bear sitting all alone on a shelf.
Mysteriously, soon after he found this inanimate soft toy Bond began chronicling the life of the very much more animated Paddington. To date he has published 70 instalments of Paddington adventures which have sold 30 million copies and been translated into 18 languages. His TV series delighted children and adults alike. Last year Bond was awarded an OBE for his trouble. The bear who helped him hit pay dirt has yet to be honoured.
Like all great icons, Paddington had humble beginnings. One can only guess at the desolation felt by the prim, portly bear while clutching his brown suitcase behind the mail bags in the lost property office at Paddington railway station in London that fateful day in April 1958.
His guardian, Aunt Lucy, had taught him English while he was growing up in her home for retired bears in Lima in Darkest Peru. His wise old Aunt believed everything should have a label so she tied one around Paddington's neck before he emigrated to London. It said, simply, "Please Look After This Bear".
We know now that Paddington didn't have to wait too long behind the mail bags. He was spotted by Mr Henry Brown and his wife Mrs Mary Brown. When she read his label, Mrs Brown asked the homeless bear to stay with them for a few days. Paddington moved into 32 Windsor Gardens in London and has been there ever since.
Of course, his name wasn't really Paddington. His Peruvian name proved too difficult to pronounce so they named him after the station where he was found.
The Brown children took to the round-eyed, black-nosed bear immediately and persuaded their parents to let him stay forever. At times, though, his antics have stretched the patience of even the good-hearted Browns.
He is constantly getting into scrapes and has two facial expressions for these eventualities. One is the innocent "Oh goodness me did I really flood the bathroom/spill that paint/damage those plants?" look. The other is a thoughtful gaze. He is unwaveringly polite and is also given to staring hard at people for no apparent reason. It is this mix of naughtiness and naivety that appeals.
This is Paddington's year. Matthew O'Reilly of the London Toy and Model Museum says they expect 100,000 people to visit their commemorative Paddington exhibition over the next six months. More than visited a similar Noddy exhibition last year. What is his secret?
"He is a vulnerable character, but cute and mischievous as well. He gets into trouble, but somehow things always turn out right," says O'Reilly.
Fans can look forward to a further onslaught of Paddington merchandise (the first Paddington toy was made as a present for Top Gear presenter Jeremy Clarkson) and a whole new stash of furry bear tales. A Paddington novel, a new TV series and a Christmas special are all in the pipeline.
Meanwhile, rivals Rupert the Bear and Winnie the Pooh are reported to be a little put out by Paddingtons' rejuvenated fame. They have cast aspersions on his IQ (Paddington spells his name P-A-D-I-N-G-T-U-N), and they are said to be behind speculation that Paddington has had the stuffing knocked out of him by the ubiquitous Teletubbies.
Contacted at his home in London, Paddington took time out from his supper of (what else?) a large jar of marmalade to make a brief comment on the latest rumours.
"I'm jolly happy here with the Browns, so it is all quite bearable," he said, mouth stuffed with orange preserve. "Don't they know life begins at 40?"