I have the diary entry in front of me. I wrote the words down a day or so after the event because the significance took a while to register, such was my shock. I had been summoned into the office of an extremely important and powerful public figure. An intimidating one, too.
At last, Sir Martin Sorrell and I are on safer ground. Well, I am on safer ground. I suspect that one of the world's most influential media moguls would love to continue talking about market performance, under-indexed Asian operations, the impact of long-term policies on the tertiary economy and the consequences of a low-growth world on shareholder returns.
This week, I discovered that Sir Trevor Chinn is Jewish. I'm being facetious, of course. Sir Trevor is a well-known member of the community, an enormously successful businessman and a generous benefactor to a number of important causes. He is often to be found within the pages of this newspaper so his Jewishness is not a surprise.
At last, the misery-fuelled rom-com we've all been waiting for. Not for Charlie Kaufman the Pixar-style life lessons smothered in upbeat bounciness. His new release is a bizarre, serious and at times engrossing study of the male mid-life crisis.
When Natalie Livingstone is reminded of Nancy Astor - a notoriously antisemitic aristocrat who became a key figure in the Profumo scandal - one senses she sometimes allows herself a wry smile of satisfaction.
"There is something I very much want to ban". Baroness Ros Altmann of Tottenham (her favourite football team) leans in and fixes me with the kind of steely, determined gaze that I imagine will be familiar to many who have worked with her in Labour and Tory governments.
This is a film about loss - of talent, beauty, love, dignity, desire and companionship. But don't let that put you off. For Youth is also utterly riveting, a Fellini-esque homage set in an Alpine hotel-spa where a youthful spring has sprung and the hills - literally (believe me!) - come alive to the sound of music.
First, don't believe the hype - The Revenant is not really a Western in the conventional sense. Instead, it's a rather old-fashioned adventure story of human endurance, battling the elements, seeking revenge and trying to establish a code of honour in the wilderness.
Here’s a novel way to review a film – I’m not going to tell you what happens. Partly because I’ve been told not to by Disney, the makers of the new Star Wars film, The Force Awakens, who want cinemagoers to discover the plot for themselves. It’ll be more magical that way, and Walt loved his magic.
One of my favourite quotes is also one of the most deceptively simple. Ernest Hemingway wasn't always the most faithful of people but I suspect he said nothing more truthful than this: "The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them."
There's been a lot of talk at the Conservative Party Conference of whether David Cameron is any closer to realising his grand ambition for a "Big Society". This is the vague notion espoused by the Prime Minister (before he had the power to do anything about it) that we're a nation that nurtures each other, that cares.
Ski resorts normally resound to the constant hum of shuttle buses, the excitable shouts of tourists racing to be first to the lifts and the unbearable boom of Eurotrash pop echoing from a myriad of bars.
Sir Michael Moritz is fiddling with his knitted tie, eyes nervously darting this way and that. Contemplating my first question about the effects of his parents being refugees from the Nazis building a new life in Cardiff, he tightens his lips, leans back, crossing and re-crossing his legs, easing the bottoms of his feet out of his well-worn slip-ons so that they swing on his arched toes.
Richard Desmond has fabulous taste in wine. The world knows this because of an interview he recently gave to the Financial Times in which he ordered a £580 bottle of 1983 Chateau Palmer to accompany his lunchtime tomato salad and grilled tuna. The hapless - now famous - journalist who picked up the bill will dine out on that story for the rest of his life.
Everyone seems to have an Amy Winehouse story. Not always a terribly inspiring one. As the release nears of Asif Kapadia’s controversial new documentary about her short life and painful death, friends are crawling out of the woodwork to speak of how they helped to protect her, family bask in their blood-association and critics are competing to say who first identified her genius.
I have a vivid memory of being about eight years old and sitting around Booba’s Saturday afternoon tea-time table in Golders Green, surrounded by the merry cacophony of family. Suddenly I announced that, no, I didn’t want to be a doctor or a lawyer or Malcom Macdonald, I was going to be Prime Minister. “Ah, my grandson the Prime Minister,” she said. And they all laughed.
If the unstoppable human whirlwind that is Jill Shaw Ruddock gets her way – and one suspects that this is not an altogether rare occurrence – Britain's rabbis had better watch out. ''There are disused parts of synagogues, as well as churches, town halls, you name it, all over the country that need a purpose.