“Lewis! What’s become of you?”

Such a title suggested the sort of undercurrents loved by the writers of whodunits, not least the corrosive power of the past. It also conjured a sense of wistful regret, in keeping with the departed Morse.

That’s the theory, at least. It’s hard to appreciate wistfulness when the adverts appear so often. As it happens, a ghostlike presence slipped beside me while I watched and started up a running commentary with the television, spectral pint in hand… “Lewis! What’s become of you? A minute ago you were on the screen looking as gloomy as a rat in Hades, and now there’s some damn-fool advert for Ikea, whatever that is.”

“It’s a Swedish furniture store, sir.”

“The day I buy my furniture from Sweden will be the day they put me in a box, Lewis.”

“I think you are already in one.”

“How impudent. Anyway, I’m tired, Lewis.”

“What caused that?”

“Lack of sleep – and all these bloody adverts. And what happened to my old Jag? It’s been replaced by some corporate vehicle.”

“It’s a Vauxhall, sir.”

“How unfortunate…”

Watching dramas on commercial television isn’t what it was. Oh, I know times are tough and advertising has to be accommodated, in newspapers as well as on television. But the increased amount of television advertising threatens to drain the enjoyment from dramas.

There are even more minutes of adverts allowed now, and with something as stately as Lewis the interruptions break the pace of the thing.

In the US, where matters are even worse, the creator of Mad Men walked away from another series over demands for longer adverts and increased product placement – in a drama about advertising, no less. In the end, an agreement was arrived at, but the row shows where television is going, thanks to ever greater commercial demands.

Watching dramas that are not broken into pieces is one very good reason for paying the BBC licence fee, if you ask me.

Product placement is now allowed on British TV too, so that’s another step down the slippery slope to everything being commercial. One day it will impossible to tell where the programmes stop and the adverts begin.

Incidentally, Morse drove a classic Mark II Jaguar, a car chosen to reflect his character, a car which made a statement. Lewis drives a Vauxhall Something Or Other on which the camera lingers for too long and too often. That was forgivable with the old Jag; with the Vauxhall, it looks like a car advert.

Which perhaps it is, for you never know nowadays.

• SOMETIMES, no, make that often, I am glad not to be a fabulously wealthy film starlet.

The other day there was a bitchy little story in one of our fine national newspapers – let’s call it the Daily Mail – about Emma Watson, the Harry Potter actor and model.

She had been photographed outside a pub, presumably with the usual long lens and short morals. In the picture her “usually flawless complexion appears to have suffered an outbreak of pimples”, according to the snide text. All this and she was about to take over as the new face of a leading make-up company! (supply your own level of indignation here).

A number of thoughts were stirred by this outbreak of low-level nastiness. In the ‘offending’ photograph, Emma Watson, who is 20, looked like any other off-duty young woman might – and she appeared very young. Oh, and the ‘pimples’ were so small it’s a wonder the newspaper didn’t supply a free magnifying glass in order to ramp up the outrage.

Funny that – film stars and models are created for the screen or page, not real life. They are not real as such, the actuality, spots and all, lurks beneath the shiny perfect skin.

Anyway, if Emma can look that good with make-up on, as shown by a contrasting picture, then that is surely a good advert for the concealing qualities of the product she has been employed to sell.