I am so disappointed. As disappointed as I was when I arrived in the car park of the Great Pyramid of Giza only to find a moderately high heap of triangular bricks just a few hundred yards from a Pizza Hut.
One of the 50 things to do before you die is to visit the Pyramid of Cheops and the nearby Sphinx. My advice? Don't bother.
If you can imagine Stonehenge surrounded by jerry-built housing, hamburger stalls and half-starved pony rides, that's what the Egyptian government's neglect has turned that World Heritage Site into.
But Verity? What a let down.
After receiving a text from my daughter telling me that "Ilfracombe's on the telly", I walked down to see the controversial gift from Damien Hirst for myself.
And my reaction was the same as at the Pyramids: "Is that it?"
I expected a towering statue piercing the clouds. I thought that it, or she, or whatever it was, would jut out proudly, pacifying an angry sea.
I wondered if the curious might be standing there marvelling at the benevolence of Britain's quite-well-known concept artist, their mouths open wide and jaws dropping at its magnificence. But not at all.
Verity was a let down of proportions that I wish could be as monumental as Ilfracombe's Golden Wonder.
I hoped it would match the Statue of Liberty or the Colossus of Rhodes. I dearly wanted the opponents to have their minds changed and their prejudices dissolved by the sheer immensity of the sculpture. Maybe I was over optimistic in thinking that Ilfracombe might for the first time feature on London hotel tourist pamphlets so that Americans could admire Verity on their 600-mile day trip.
But Verity, Verity, I say unto you, when you've had your baby I hope you will grow taller.