The Autograph Hunters

Ken Torbit collects autographs. He comes from Dunfermline to the Edinburgh Festival and hangs around, looking for famous people. He is middle aged, wears glasses and looks like a stand up comic. Iain Stewart also collects autographs and comes from Dunfermline, except he likes to take photographs as well and tell people how many have since died, as if his camera has a hex. He is very cheerful about it.

Although both these gentlemen are fine examples of that particular British phenomenon, the eccentric, Grant McPhee and Ed Broughton's mini-documentary is too hit-and-miss and doesn't ponder the phenomenon of mature men who (almost) jump up and down with excitement at the thought of Melvin Bragg's signature.

They get lucky with Oliver Stone and someone I didn't recognise, although can't penetrate the crowds to within a clean sheet of Sir Sean's writing hand.

Ian Rankin is known in literary circles as being a really nice guy. He demonstrates it here. When ambushed by a flustered Ken, brandishing a book, he recognises the problem immediately. No pen.

"You can use mine," Rebus's alter ego announces. What he means is, "I can use mine." He does so. It's a lovely moment.