Just how much lower can the Conservatives sink?

This is the year in which Michael Gambon died, so by definition a grim one for theatre. Of all the tributes, one of the most acute was by Tom Hollander, who recalled how expressive Gambon’s voice was after 30 years on stage. He could reach hundreds of people while seeming to address only one or two. That’s essential theatre acting. When Gambon turned to cinema, his voice had become supple and mellow. It set me to thinking of other great cinema voices. Simone Signoret came first to mind. Then Jeanne Moreau, James Mason, and above all, Henry Fonda. These actors have you at hello. I would have added Marlene Dietrich, but if you can be so easily parodied, can you be truly great?

A Los Angeles record producer tells me that teenagers no longer consider actors as role models. The young value authenticity, and necessarily actors pretend. Musicians don’t. Taylor Swift and Harry Styles have taken over from James Dean and Marilyn Monroe. ‘Timmy Chalamet,’ he said, ‘had a vogue for six months but it’s over now.’ I wonder if this is true. We still go principally to see actors, not plays. In 1985-87, Anthony Hopkins played more than 370 performances of three productions in the 1,200-seat Olivier Theatre without a single ticket unsold. Those of us involved in those memorable seasons never imagined there was any reason except the greatness of Tony. If he came back, it would happen again.

The French have always been better at protest than the British. Parisians are furious about the litter of directive street furniture which makes nonsense of the Rue de Rivoli. They’re doing everything to bring pressure on their mayor, Anne Hidalgo. In London, like the Kinks, I always loved viewing life from Waterloo Bridge, relishing those smoky black-and-white images of men in bowler hats forming a river on their way to work.