TV industry! Here’s a little bombshell for you. From now on, all of Curtis’s work will be produced first and foremost for the internet. It will be hosted at bbc.co.uk/adamcurtis (coming soon). Go there to find a trailer for It Felt Like A Kiss. An hour-long cut of the whole thing will be placed on the site on the last day of the Manchester International Festival (MIF). It will also host his next two projects: “A long thing about our complicated relationship to the Congo over the last 100 years and how our idea of nature as a sacred yet terrifying realm has risen up during that same time.” That will be followed by a piece about “the political and cultural ideas that underlie the internet – and the idea that we are all linked in an interconnected web – out of which can come a new form of democracy.”

“Batman was comedy,” West says, “let’s face it. What I loved about Batman was his total lack of awareness when it came to his interaction with the outside world. He actually believed nobody could recognise him on the phone, when he was being Bruce Wayne, even though he made no attempt to disguise his voice.”

“In the same way that Inspector Clouseau never notices his accent,” I suggest, “when everybody around him is also French.”

“That’s right. In the first episode, Batman goes into a nightclub in the cowl, cape and bat gloves. When the maître d’ says: ‘Ringside table, Batman?’ he replies, ‘No thank you – I’ll stand at the bar. I would not wish to be conspicuous.'”

Sidebar: Diction – Doctors are smart. You can show this replacing regular words with Doctor words.

Wrong: “Dammit House, you’re such a whiny bitch!”

Right: “Dammit House, your self-flaggelistic nihilism and anarchistic negation is just compensation from your hidden vulnerability!”

‘When he does reveal the all-important DNA results, it’s absolute mayhem: ‘Right, here we go… the DNA results…she was 120 per cent sure. He found bruises on her legs, he was only 25 per cent sure. The DNA tests show that Jamie… is the child’s father!’ The crowd is in uproar. Booing, jeering cheering, screaming, whistling, shouting insults. Gemma, points her finger at Jamie and screams, ‘Wanker! Wanker! Wanker!’ And so the baby girl, in years to come, will be able to watch, time and again, the moment the world found out the identity of her daddy.’

From the very beginning, Bill Dozier and I had seen millionaire Bruce Wayne and his Bat regalia as classy comedy, hopefully appealing to kids as an absurdly jolly action piece and to grown-ups for its deadpan satire, entirely nonfraught with psychological issues. I mean, golly gee! How else can one view a character who enters a nightclub in full Batgarb and mask, accompanied by a gorgeous chick, and when greeted by the maitre d’ with an obsequious “Good evening, Batman! A table for two?” gravely replies, “Yes, thank you. But please, not too near the music — I wouldn’t want to appear conspicuous.”