Bohemian Rhapsody

Watch the Golden Globes, and you see why the French Revolution had to happen. Not just because the modern aristocracy are thinner and better looking, and the reflection from their shiny teeth and plumped up faces strikes us like the mud that splashed the peasants as their betters zipped past in their carriages without paying any taxes. But because they have the nerve to speak down to us, and be such hypocrites in plain view. Bring on the pitchforks. ‘Everyone is depressed, and maybe that's as good a reason as any that everyone could use a little time to laugh and celebrate,’ said arch-smirker Andy Samberg on behalf of a third of a billion Americans.

There has never been a better time than this to be a dwarf in show business. For years, thespians of diminutive stature were obliged to eke out the 11 months between pantomime engagements with humiliating side gigs like working at ‘dwarf-throwing’ bars and performing at bachelor parties. Now, however, the public’s apparently infinite appetite for idiotic medieval fluff has made our low-wattage era a golden age for the height-impaired performer. Take a bow, Peter Dinklage for Game of Thrones, and Warwick Davis for the Harry Potter franchise. The nominations for the Golden Globes were announced today. There should have been more dwarves on screen this year, and perhaps as many as seven in one film. I speak, of course, of Bohemian Rhapsody, the Freddie Mercury biopic.