Yesterday evening, BBC 1 put on one of the tackiest shows I have ever fast forwarded through, to celebrate the eightieth birthday of Bruce Forsyth. I haven't watched much of Strictly Come Dancing, but Brucie on TV on weekend evenings? Forget Life on Mars, this is real time travel, taking me back to watching Sunday Night at the London Palladium as a child because Adam Faith was on and later, getting through sticky evenings with the in-laws by watching The Generation Game together. I'm glad they found room yesterday for "Here, kitty, kitty!" What a pro. Happy birthday.
Had to get that off my chest. Later: those 50 crime writers you ought to read.