WE HAVE a new way of greeting each other in our house. Sneaking through the door, imaginary gun in one hand, pretend torch shining in another, we appear from behind the curtain with a flourish and a breathless “Jack Bauer, CTU” – usually followed by a demand to put the kettle on or sort out tea.

It’s a shameful way to behave at 28, we know. But what can we say?

Our sensibilities have been taken over by the fictional character of Jack Bauer and the nail-biting missions of the equally fictional Counter Terrorist Unit.

Over the past two weeks – in between watching 48 episodes of 24 – I’ve wondered where on earth I’ve been for the past eight years.

While the rest of the world has been well versed on the virtues of Jack Bauer since the first series was aired in 2001, I was blissfully unaware.

My other half does not have this excuse. He watched every series from the beginning and loves to watch me tear my hair out wondering who is the dirty agent, who is going to die this time or who planted the bomb.

We haven’t staged faux kidnappings yet but let’s face it, the boyfriend signing text messages as “Jack Bauer, CTU” is bad enough.

He has even started talking in an American accent. Then there are the dinners burned to a crisp while we watch four episodes in a row, the eyes prised open at 1am, when we would rather find out whether the bomb went off than get a good night’s sleep (Jack’s been awake for 24 hours, so why can’t we?) and the nights out we have turned down to spend more time with the DVD player.

For those of you spared the indignity of giving over your social life to an American TV series, 24 is an espionage drama set in real time. There are 24 episodes in each series, with each minute of air time corresponding with a minute in the lives of the characters.

As addictions go, it’s pretty harmless – or so you would think. But TV, it seems, can seriously blur people’s perceptions.

Listening to Radio Five Live the other day, I was staggered to hear that viewers once put in real offers to buy a Coronation Street character’s house.

The day after, I had to smile when Keifer Sutherland, who plays Jack Buaer, was in the papers saying that passengers on a plane had told them they felt safer with him on board.

“I couldn’t figure it out,” he said. “If you’ve seen 24 you’d know anyone within three feet of me dies”.

There is a more sinister side to this failure to separate fantasy from reality, however. We regularly hear of actors being harassed and even attacked while buying groceries or on nights out.

Soap stars seem to have it worst. Fans shouted “murderer” at Kate Ford, who played Coronation Street’s Tracy Barlow, when her character was imprisoned for lamping violent boyfriend Charlie, while Kieron Richardson, bad boy Ste in Hollyoaks, says he is often rebuked in the street.

Now, doesn’t that strike everybody as odd? Even the most loyal soap fan must know deep down that actually, the characters aren’t real.

It has nothing to do with the argument about soap stars deserving privacy, or how annoying it must be for EastEnders actress Patsy Palmer when people bellow “Riccckkkaaaay” down the street. No, it is a total, innate failure to accept they are acting at all.

However, what is real – allegedly – is what they represent. Soaps fictionalise what happens in real communities, where murders, paedophiles and shoplifters live among us, where girls run over fathers, sleep with father-in-laws or drop dead straight after finding their real mums – okay, so EastEnders is a bit far fetched. But is it so hard to work that out?

Now, back to 24.