It’s getting to that time of year when I dig out my old Panama hat and head over to France, I think it is for the Cannes Film Festival. I missed the first one when a few drinks on the plane with Lee Marvin led to an emergency landing in Norway and a very ugly scene with Interpol, but I’ve been to every one since and have thoroughly enjoyed myself. The only bit I don’t like is the films, which tend to be quite long and very foreign, but they do give you ample time to sleep off the lunch you enjoyed on some producer’s yacht. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve done my share of those arty pictures, but you do have to learn to talk in subtitles and the director will have a very irritating beard and insist you take your clothes off. It was at Cannes that Prince Rainier III of Monaco beat me 7-4 at table tennis and celebrated by getting married to Grace Kelly. Sadly I couldn’t attend the wedding because I fell in the sea and ruined my suit, but they always sent a card on my birthday.

It was all years ago now of course, but the other day I heard they’ll be turning that very story into a ‘bio pic’, with dear little Eddy Redmayne as yours truly.  I doubt if anyone’s told him he’ll have to shave his hair off for the scene where Frank Sinatra had me tarred and feathered for cheating at golf, but he’s a very fine actor and I’m sure he’ll cope admirably. 

I do like the bit at the end of the festival when they give out the prizes because it’s a free bar, but you do have to make sure you’re stood upwind of those Eastern European actresses if you know what I mean.  Some of them can look a little startling and I do find their tattoos quite intimidating. 

Lucille Ball showed me her tattoos once, but that’s another story…