While watching Britain's Got Talent recently, I wondered why television companies paid these “celebrity” judges a reported £1million plus.

In some cases, I am unaware of their qualifications and in every case, I am sure it is money for old rope.

We live in an odd society where we pay someone to sit and say a few words and give them more money than a nurse will earn in 30 years.

I grow tired of television management using the same presenters, commissioning endless cheap reality shows, recycling worn-out celebrities and dumbing-down television as a watching experience.

When I was growing up with just two television channels, I would have been astounded to think I would live long enough to have a choice of hundreds of channels and still find nothing decent to watch.

Why do television executives aim most products at the under-35s while we live in a country with a population that includes a quarter who are 60 or over?

Today, I would never be invited to visit a film or television production set as my day is over, but I don’t miss it one bit.

Frankly, I would probably cross the road to avoid the winner of Big Brother or the cast of The Only Way Is Essex. but then again, I would not recognise them.

When I tell my younger friends how I once attended a gangsters and molls-themed party in Hollywood and sat at the same table as King Kong star Fay Wray, 1940s leading man Robert Cummings, gravel-voiced character actor Aldo Ray and Mae Clarke, who starred opposite Jimmy Cagney in Public Enemy and Boris Karloff in Frankenstein in the 1930s, they reply  “never heard of them”, and ask whether I’ve ever met Peter Andre or Katie Price.

A character on Hollyoaks the other day said they had never heard of Sir Michael Caine until the other person mentioned he played the old butler in Batman and a glimmer of recognition was achieved.

I was lucky in the 1970s and 1980s to meet and sometimes interview stars of the golden era of Hollywood and the British cinema.

Sometimes I pinch myself to think I sat down with the likes of David Niven, Charlton Heston, Sophia Loren and John Mills, even if younger readers don’t know who they are.

More than 30 years ago, I rang up the producer of a horror film being shot at Elstree and asked if I could come down and interview any of the cast.

I got to meet Vincent Price, John Carradine, Donald Pleasance, Britt Eckland and Richard Johnson.

Today, such access to modern stars would be unheard of for the likes of me.

I also met the legendary John Wayne on the set of Brannigan in London, the great Joan Crawford making her last film, which was pretty awful and called Trog, and 1940s pin-up Rita Hayworth.

I also got the chance to chat with Gene Kelly and to watch Jimmy Cagney work on his last film.
Jimmy told me he never watched his old gangster movies as they were just a job of work and he was able to drive by his old studio Warner Brothers without a second glance.

He apparently turned down earlier offers to return to the screen in Doctor Dolittle and, sadly in the sequel to The Godfather, which would have been interesting.

Few actors can leave the profession willingly. Mr Cagney did it so he could enjoy his farm and 1930s star William Powell walked away in the 1950s with not a moment’s regret, as did Cary Grant in the 1960s.

When my younger friends are more impressed that I have met Simon Cowell than John Wayne I give a little sigh, but time moves on. However, I am grateful many of you still enjoy my weekly trips down memory lane and tales of stars and films of yesteryear.