It is an exclusive little literary club. It meets at a portal between heaven and earth, since some of its members are dead. It meets to weep and chuckle, and sometimes rail and wail, over chance, fate and the movies. You probably won’t have heard of any of these people but I’ll name some just in case.

Alan Le May. Jack Finney. Robert Bloch. Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac. I shall add two associate members, not strictly qualified but honoured as affiliates: Murray Burnett and Joan Alison.