This Guy-Ritchie-directed gangland drama is deathly dull. It’s a charm-free watch with awful characters and humour so genital-based that at one point Helen Mirren yells a penis joke at a sausage

MobLand. It sounds like a regional nightclub. Or a boyband. But it’s not. It’s a Paramount+ crime drama starring Pierce Brosnan as an Irishman unable to speak in a convincing Irish accent. This is his tragedy. His cross to bear. And now it’s ours, too, because MobLand is back for a second series, with Brosnan – as the veteran gang boss Conrad Harrigan – once again battling other gang bosses while attempting to say things like “Oi love ye loike a tramp loves paraffin” without his vowels shrivelling into tiny raisins of pseudo-Hibernian shame. Does he succeed? Oi tink not! But there are bigger problems afoot, to be sure.

Created by Ronan “Top Boy” Bennett and directed by Guy Ritchie, the first series of the London-set MobLand (feel the width of that capitalised L!) was a sustained roar of nothing much; a rumble through every possible modern gangster drama cliche in the Every Modern Gangster Drama Cliche book. You know the sort of thing: car chases through suspiciously empty city streets; convoluted drug deals with mumbling eastern Europeans; tiny-eyed endomorphs in flat caps bellowing “Oi” in slow motion as they hurtle through the air to the strains of something unconscionable by Kasabian.

Bond Place and Desmond Crescent have been named in honour of the 007 franchise after some scenes were shot nearby in the 90s – why stop there?

James Bond fans have endured a rough few years. Ever since No Time to Die walloped off Daniel Craig, we’ve been stuck in a weird kind of limbo. There will eventually be a new James Bond film, directed by Denis Villeneuve, the most exciting director in the franchise’s history. But we don’t know when it will come out, or who will play Bond, or if 007 under Amazon will even be recognisable.

In summary, we need something tangible to ground our anxieties. What we need is to pack up our things and head to north Swindon, to the site of the former Motorola manufacturing facility, where a new housing estate has just named a bunch of roads after James Bond.

The latest in our series of writers singling out their go-to comfort watches is a look back at a complicated comedy showcase for Robin Williams

I can’t think of another film that pulls at my heartstrings while making me chuckle as reliably as Mrs Doubtfire does. It has that rare tonal elasticity: genuine sadness, even grief, followed almost immediately by absurdity and welcome comic relief. You might feel your throat tighten one minute, only to find yourself laughing out loud the next. Few films manage that without emotional whiplash, but this one does it with warmth.

I watched it endlessly as a teenager on video tape on a tiny TV in my bedroom as I grappled with the peculiarities of my own ultimately loving family life. I adored Mrs Doubtfire for the obvious reasons: all of Robin Williams’s voices, the slapstick and the sheer range of comedic force that the late actor unleashes.

In this week’s newsletter: The race to crown a new 007 has become its own long‑running spectacle, turning the search for​ Bond into an event as big as the films themselves

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Callum Turner’s turn as James Bond lasted at most a couple of weeks. No sooner had he been enshrined as frontrunner to succeed Daniel Craig, than he was nudged from the DB5 driver’s seat by the latest heir apparent, Jacob Elordi, installed as the new bookies’ favourite after his smouldering, highly profitable performance in Wuthering Heights. Smarting somewhere in the background is Aaron Taylor-Johnson, who seemed locked in for the job a couple of years ago, enjoying the backing of former 007s Pierce Brosnan and George Lazenby, but now seems to have fallen out of favour. And don’t forget the succession of other dead cert Bonds now banished to the back of the odds market: the long-rumoured likes of Tom Hardy and Idris Elba (both now likely to have aged out of the role); Theo James; James Norton; Josh O’Connor; Harris Dickinson; Bridgerton’s Rége-Jean Page; and approximately 5,000 other predominately British actors who have enjoyed box office success/led a successful TV drama/look good in a tuxedo.

On and on the hunt goes. Five years after Craig’s final outing, one that left absolutely no wriggle room for his return, and not far off a year since Denis Villeneuve was pegged as director of the next, still-untitled instalment, the next 007 has still not been found. Or if he has (and it seems certain to be a he), everyone involved in the Bond operation is keeping characteristically tight-lipped about it.

New Zealand film-maker became a Hollywood fixture in the 90s and 00s, including making Pierce Brosnan’s last 007 movie, before returning to his home country

Lee Tamahori, the New Zealand director of Once Were Warriors and Die Another Day, has died aged 75.

In a statement to Radio New Zealand, Tamahori’s family said he had Parkinson’s and died “peacefully at home”.