It is rather shaming to be quite so wet over nothing in particular, but at least Fielding does it too. He cries gallons over slow-motion bits at the ends of films, especially Gladiator, and begins to worship Roman values, then Italian footballers kissing in slo-mo to the strains of Nessun Dorma. Sniffle, sniffle. And QPR being relegated in 1996. He can cry you a river over that one, and over a darling little clump of daffodils growing by the traffic island.