You will all by now have heard of George Carey's memoirs, for the simple and unimpressive reason that he has divulged in them private observations on members of the Royal Family that he has been able to make because of his privileged access to them. I shall deal with that regrettable aspect of his behaviour later, for those comments constitute only a small part of this book, and I ought to try to keep them in perspective.

Carey notes that he is the first of the 103 Archbishops of Canterbury (up to and including him) to write his memoirs. Having finished reading them, one may well conclude that that, at least, is one thing to be thankful for. At their worst they are Pooterish; at their best