With the loss of real cinema - and theatre - over lockdown, most of us have had to find our entertainment via alternative sources. My most recent screen pleasure is the hit French comedy-drama Call My Agent. It's a scream. Set in a Parisian talent agency, which manages those in the performing arts, it's a back-stabbing, tempestuous, poignant and sophisticated story of four leading agents who have to placate, schmooze, promote and sometimes lie outrageously to their nervy and temperamental clients. Actors of both genders are presented like highly-strung racehorses who might be upset by the slightest contretemps, might throw a tantrum about not being served the right kind of Himalayan flower tea and are childishly grateful for applause. (Just about describes us all, really).