Stop right there. I don’t want to hear any more of this claptrap that a movie is a film – a film is the correct term for a feature. Film is British, it’s Norman Wisdom being dragged across a garden by a dirty-great lawn mower, Christopher Lee dressed like a big Jessie in The Wicker Man and perhaps most memorably, British film is summed up best by Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson chomping on crumpets in a station buffet, resisting an almost uncontrollable urge to make the beast with two backs.

By Karen Fenessey

I don’t know if it’s like this all over the country, but summer seems to be a total disappointment this year. I, for one, believe that this is all down to emissions from greenhouse gases and I make a point of ramming this home to my class of planet-killing P2s, who spend more time leaking out radioactive rays on their silly X-boxes than lowering the damage left all over the world by their grubby carbon fingerprints.