One day in February 1988, John Hurt the actor was having a quiet pint of Guinness in the Coach and Horses in Soho when one the regulars there who had the not negligible title of its drunkest denizen turned to him and said: “You’re just a bad actor. All you want is fame.”

Jeffrey Bernard, who was sitting on a nearby barstool, remarked: “I want to be rich and famous. Though I’d settle for the former.” And so the tension was defused.

But John Hurt was not to get off so lightly, being buttonholed next by an eccentric regular wearing a monocle. His nickname was The Red Baron and he was later murdered in Shepherd’s Bush. That night in 1988 he got away with being told by Hurt that he was boring.

I mention this illustration of the trials of fame because Hurt’s was among five pages of obituaries in The Times on Monday. He died shortly after his 77th birthday, an age he doubted he’d attain in his drinking days.

On the next page was Alexander Chancellor, who remade the fortunes of The Spectator as its editor from 1975 to 1984, and also died shortly after his 77th birthday.