A study carried out in Holland found that adults spent an average of half an hour a day waiting, among other things, in the queue at the checkout, on the phone, in line at the bank, for public transport and their turn to see the doctor.

Those who've had the pleasure of a whole weekend of rainswept determination outside a passport office, may have already achieved their annual waiting quota.

Ladies - and gentlemen - in waiting, at Glasgow's passport office

Brits especially have a reputation for queuing stoicism and etiquette.

Historically, we haven't particularly liked waiting in line, but we've jolly well lumped it and liked it.

Suffering in silence is generally the norm - although severe muttering awaits transgressors of the queuing code.

Professor of consumer behaviour at Kingston Business School, Dr Robert East, says British people have a long civic history, which may account for our deeply instilled tendency to form orderly lines.

He said: "We certainly do have that reputation, but I am not so sure that we warrant it so much any more.

"Things are changing - there was a time when people would form queues for London buses, now they just surge forward and it's every man for himself as the bus arrives."

Which is true enough, but the French and Spanish have been doing that for decades.

According to Dr East, there is a pleasure factor at play in queuing behaviour.

The more unpleasant a queuing environment becomes, the more likely we are to put up and shut up so that we can get out of the line as fast as possible.

"Queuing is like any other of society's rules. People observe the queue because they know the rules, they know what kind of behaviour is expected of them to maintain order," he said.

"Generally, anyone who pushes into a queue will receive some form of rebuke from the person they have pushed in front of.

Mickey knows how to keep the ranks happy

"There is a general accepted attitude that the more onerous a situation is, the faster you want to get out of it, so the more likely you are to stick by the rules which will maintain the order needed to get you out fast."

Major providers of entertainment realise the queue's potential to kill joy, and have been known to provide busker-type entertainment to distract waiters from their waiting.

Disney realised that hanging around for more than an hour for some of its rides was no fun at all, and set out to entertain those in line.

A few of the larger nightclubs on this side of the Atlantic sporadically lay on street entertainers to occupy the (sometimes chemically agitated) minds of those waiting to enter.

But we also have an uncanny affection for certain types of queuing.

The happy camaraderie enjoyed by participants in the Harrods sale queue might well stem from the outright eccentricity required to sleep on a London pavement in midwinter, out of choice.

But the queue as a fond tradition is more than slightly perverse. We have occasions where the wait to get in is as celebrated as the event itself.

Waiting for three days to watch mixed doubles on court 14 at Wimbledon would probably be a certifiable act in some cultures.

Self-selection, explains Dr East, is the process whereby a large group of people with similar interests chose to associate with one another.

So several hundred Star Wars fans, all with the common objective of buying Phantom Menace tickets, are tied together by a powerful bond. They enjoy the queue as an opportunity to revel in their hobbies and interests.

Not so the poor holiday hopefuls desperately trying to get their papers in order for a couple of weeks in the sun.