Ben Chaplin and Julian Rhind-Tutt are urbane and dignified to a fault as the Times’ uniformed editors – at least until it comes to camping it up in the sketches that bring their written words to life – and Michael Palin twinkles as a sympathetic member of the top brass. It’s a quietly remarkable story, told with respect and, appropriately, irreverence. Gabriel Tate
This Fulham Road branch is one of eight Rossopomodoro venues in London. It's part of a worldwide chain now totalling more than 80 outposts, from the Middle East to Iceland and Africa. Part of the chain's success comes from staying true to its Neapolitan roots. The pizzas - made with flour from Naples and blasted in an authentic wood-fired oven - do brisk business. Expect, too, traditional Italian pasta dishes, antipasti platters, beef carpaccio with rocket and parmesan, and plates paying homage to the hometown - think a black ink linguine with prawns and cherry tomatoes, or pappardelle with mushrooms, garden peas, speck and mascarpone. To finish, options range from gelato, capresina and tiramisu to limoncello, grappa, Italian coffee and affogato al caffé - Neapolitan espresso with ice cream and whipped cream. The drinks list focuses on Italy, with regional Italian wines, Moretti beers, negronis and homemade limonata.
Venue says: “Take advantage of our new lunch deal: two courses for only £9.95, and you can add a coffee and a coppetta dessert for just £2.95.”