If you have a certain class of press pass, you get a box, within which a dizzying array of documents appear, as if by magic, every day: invitations to films, production notes, invitations to receptions,  information about numbingly boring seminars on finance initiatives. Those sorts of things. Having heaved this stuff out of its cubbyhole, you then make your way across to the recycling bin and dump everything bar the single sheet of paper listing today’s press screenings (which could have been sent by email anyway).

It’s all very strange, but I suppose it’s nice to  get actual stuff printed on actual paper now and then. Here is just one day’s bumf. Won’t somebody please think of the trees.