... the film to see is the five-hour-long La Bataille de Gaulle. This is actually two films with, irritatingly, two titles per film – L’âge de fer (The Iron Age) in France and De Gaulle: Résistance in the UK, and J’écris ton nom (I write my name) in France and De Gaulle: Liberté in the UK. Yes, both are about Charles de Gaulle during the Second World War.

For a long time, entry came with an unspoken price. Soften the accent. Shorten the name. Leave some part of yourself at the door. Something about that bargain appears to be changing. Arab and Muslim faces are gradually entering spaces that, a generation ago, seemed locked

I believe in chiromancy as much as I believe in necromancy, which, before you recoil in horror, means not at all. Or maybe I should say I didn’t believe in either. Perhaps now as I grow older, I’m changing my mind, based partly on strange new findings in physics, a tale which I shall leave for another day.

In one’s idle moments it is always a modest internal entertainment to conjure up an article that could upset the maximum number of readers, including, naturellement, the revered editor himself. And by George, last night it came to me!

Every 45 minutes, a man in the UK dies from prostate cancer and the latest official report leaves a troubling question hanging in the air: are we really fighting prostate cancer with the ambition, purpose and coordination it demands?