John Gibson: Old salt Bob . . he’s so stroppy

In the navy you could sail the seven seas. Then what would you do? In the extraordinary case of Bob Wright you could write a book recording your life before, during and after your valiant service as a bottom-bunk submariner.

Jack Strop VD and Scar, reputedly rubber-stamped by the Admiralty, was first published in 2002. Repackaged to a degree, it has reappeared in good time for Christmas. Necessarily an adult read, it’s a classic of its genre – as they say while swabbing the decks. Just make sure your offspring under 25 don’t see it without a counsellor.

It’s an education. I ploughed through an earlier edition and, kid you not, I’ll brace myself before reading it again.

Old salt Bob still lives in hometown Edinburgh and I suggest his publishers fix Fiona Bruce for the relaunch up here. The Rear of the Year, who’s not wary of sailors, currently seems to be ready to resort to anything – it’s called desperation – to clinch her own peak-slot show and flee mundane newscasting.

Own up, Fiona. Your dying to do a Kirstie Allsopp.

Playing it up

Your attention, please. This is Streisand talking. “It always gave me the creeps when I saw performers who desperately wanted the audience to like them. That’s not what I’m about.

“Take actors: they’re often at their most charismatic when they’re doing very simple exercises. When they vomit out emotions it’s such a turn-off.”

I see where you’re coming from, Babs. What was a real sickener for me was Yentyl, the film you produced and directed. A drag and congrats on plodding through a recent centre-spread interview without a mention of it.