Peter Rhodes on subtitles, the N-word and a new character in the White House

Over the past few years I have renewed my TV licence online at least a dozen times. The process is quick and easy: click the keyboard for a few minutes and, behold, you have settled your debt with Auntie and signed up for another year's wibbly-wobbly leftyism and 12 months of harrumphing on the sofa. But this latest renewal, a few days ago, was a different beast.

The on-screen prompts resolutely declined my debit-card payment and, after a couple of repeat attempts, I was notified that my card had been locked. The unlocking process took me to a noisy call centre where I successfully answered a few security questions before being stumped by the one about a purchase allegedly made with the card several days ago. (Who was the shopkeeper? God alone knows).

In ye olden days a locked card was a minor irritant; it could be simply unlocked in a few minutes at your branch in the high street. But like hundreds of others, our town branch closed down last year which means an eight-mile round trip to the nearest branch, some time this week. In a perfect world I would ring this branch to discuss the process but, as it hardly needs reporting, it accepts no contact by phone. Oh, bliss.

I finally got around to watching the seven-Oscar winning Oppenheimer (2023) which tells the story of how America developed the atom bomb. It lasts more than three hours and features two explosions and an awful lot of committee meetings. Couldn't quite see what all the fuss was about.