Much enjoying Jonathan Miller refusing to bear his faculties meekly and go quietly into the good night of artistic eminence, but thundering Timon-like against – well, against just about everything. Such withering anger, it seems to me, becomes a man who has directed Shakespeare and Verdi, who could have given his life to science, mimicry, satire, polemics, sculpture, and who never seems to believe he is doing what he should be doing or that people have adequately valued what he has done.