Saturday night at 8 o'clock found me not at the films however at the Cinema Museum, a hidden gem near the Oval cricket ground in South London, situated in a previous workhouse which was briefly home to the young Charlie Chaplin after his mom fell on tough times.

Truth be told, I seldom endeavor south of the river. As Dave, from the Winchester Club, cautioned Arthur Daley: 'Lot of very wicked individuals' in Sarf Lunnon.

Coincidentally, the occasion was a one-man show by my old mate George Layton, actor, director, scriptwriter, author, whose finest hour - at least to my mind - was playing Des, the dodgy vehicle mechanic in Minder.

George read from his collection of narratives set in the 1950s, when he was maturing in post-war Bradford. They're magnificently composed, warm, funny, evocative, a slice of history, a working-class version of Richmal Crompton's Just William experiences.

The storylines are based upon the trials and adversities of a young boy being raised by a single mother - a non-traditional domesticity at that time, unfortunately only too typical today. The Fib And Other Stories has remained in print because 1975 and found its way on to the school curriculum, where it remains today.

I can't assist wondering, though, how typically these remarkable texts are used in class these days, in between instructors packing their pupils' little heads with fashionable far-Left propaganda about 'white advantage', colonialism and, obviously, climate modification.

The kids in the monochrome school picture which formed the background to George's reading were definitely white, but nobody could have explained them as privileged. Those were the days when 'austerity' meant living from hand to mouth, not needing to choose a basic 50in flat screen TV, instead of a 65in OLED Ultra model, and only being able to pay for an iPhone 14 rather than the latest all-singing, all-dancing AI version.

Child poverty was genuine, bread-and-dripping, holes-in-your-shoes things, not dining on Deliveroo and reluctantly wearing last season's Nike trainers.

Until the digital/social media transformation, children got their knowledge primarily from books, composes Littlejohn

In the 1950s, kids experienced authentic hardship, not the poverty of ambition and creativity which blights this generation, through no fault of their own. Today, kids live through their smart phones, rather of strolling free and experiencing life to the complete.

Until the digital/social media transformation, children gained their knowledge primarily from books. Yes, TV played a huge role, as did the movies, however nowhere near the domination of TikTok and other apps providing pleasure principle in byte-sized pieces.

And how can squinting at the most recent CGI produced blockbuster on a cellphone a couple of inches large ever compare with the kind of old-school, big screen, Technicolor and Cinemascope, best-out-of-Hollywood experience celebrated at the Cinema Museum?

It can't. Just as the best photos are said to be on the radio, even better photos can be discovered in the printed word.

Among the most dismal things I've checked out just recently was the author Anthony Horowitz regreting the reality that his 300-page books are far too long to engage the much shorter attention spans of today's children.

No surprise child, and undoubtedly adult, literacy levels have actually plunged amazingly. All this has actually contributed to the shocking revelation that white, working class students - young boys in particular - are being left behind. Even Labour's Education Secretary Bridget Phillipson has actually been forced to admit they have actually been 'betrayed' by the modern-day schools system.

They struggle with an absence of parental involvement and consequent scarceness of aspiration. The white, working class boy in George Layton's stories certainly didn't suffer any parental neglect from his imperious mum. Nor did he do not have creativity or goal.

Education was the way out of hardship. It produced significant wordsmiths like George, in post-war Bradford - and our own dear Keith Waterhouse, late of this parish, who matured in poverty in close-by pre-war Leeds.

Literacy is the biggest gift we can bestow on any kid. My grandmas taught me to read before I went to school, setting me on the early roadway to a fulfilling career at the wordface instead of the relative drudgery of the office.

George Layton is considering taking his one-man show on the road, to little provincial theatres. I have actually got a much better idea.

If the Education Secretary wants to reverse the betrayal of white, working class kids she might start by selecting up the phone and welcoming George to explore schools, reading from his short stories.

I honestly believe that if they might be persuaded to look up from their mobiles for an hour, they 'd be enthralled and motivated by the adventures of a young kid not that different to them, in spite of the range in years.

You never ever know, there may even be another Charlie Chaplin amongst them.

When they're not tasering one-legged 92-year-old guys or nicking individuals for publishing hurty words on the web, the cops are progressively taking second tasks to supplement their earnings.

Some are working as painters and decorators, others as scaffolders nand shipment motorists. More intriguingly, sidelines likewise consist of a DJ (PC Hammer, anybody?) and a reiki trainer, whatever that is.

My favourites are beekeeper and kickboxing coach, although the copper running a tea shop needs to take the biscuit.

It's also reported that some officers are working as grocery store checkout assistants. I don't expect there's any risk of them nicking a few thiefs.

Mind how you go.

RICHARD LITTLEJOHN: Couple in their 70s who bought a child from a stranger are self-centered in the extreme

First the frogs, now the octopuses
The prohibited migrant armada crossing the Channel daily might end up being the least of our issues. We now discover that a fleet of foreign octopuses from the Med is devouring crab stocks off the coast of Devon and Cornwall and threatening to put local anglers out of service.

It's bad enough French trawlers hoovering up our fish without migrant molluscs helping themselves to what's left.

We're likewise told that parakeets from India and Pakistan are an 'unstoppable invasive species' having escaped into the wild and are colonising cities as far afield as Plymouth and Aberdeen. No doubt we'll be putting them up in the nearby Holiday Inn soon.

Which's before I get to the buzzard that's been dive-bombing children in a school play ground in Romford, Essex. Where the hell did that come from?

We've got enough trouble with home-grown Stuka-style pigeons without importing kamikaze buzzards.

Take Labour's 'aspiration' to invest a useless 3 percent of GDP on defence by the year 2525 with a shovel-load of Maldon's finest. The way Rachel From Complaints is taxing the economy to death, there will not be any GDP left in a couple of years' time. And three per cent of things all is still pack all.

AN NHS cosmetic surgeon who compared Islamist terrorists to the Nazis has been struck off. If he 'd stated the exact same about those people who desire to leave the European yuman rites convention, Surkeir would have made him Chief law officer.

Having recently declared that the original ancient Britons were black, the woke revisionists now declare the Vikings were Muslims. Don't these people ever take a day of rest?