Whenever I hear the phrase ‘national treasure’ I reach for my shotgun. Take David Attenborough. Yes, he may be impressively old – and modest and charming and sweet, so people claim – but he is also a menace who has probably done more to promote environmental hysteria, devious misinformation and spectacular misallocation of your scarce resources than Greta Thunberg, Al Gore and Prince William combined. The most effective propaganda takes you unawares, when your guard is down. So where better than in the cosy 8 p.m. Sunday slot when you are slumped on a sofa, hypnotised with that familiar soothing voice, manipulated by a score (Hans Zimmer) so soupy it could put Heinz out of business, and mesmerised by some of the most visually arresting images you’re ever likely to see.