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Roula Khalaf, Editor of the FT, selects her favourite stories in this weekly newsletter.

Invitation-only private auctions, where select groups of billionaires are approached to bid for high-priced works, are becoming an attractive format for collectors who want to avoid the spotlight while disposing of artworks.

Private auctions have been an innovation of the past five years, say industry figures, as the public auction market has become a less profitable forum with a reduced pool of bidders, especially from Asia, for top works. Last month, a bust by Alberto Giacometti estimated to be valued at more than $70mn failed to sell at Sotheby’s.

The rise of the private auction was also driven by collectors’ post-Covid unwillingness to travel the world for public sales. One collector said: “Something happened with Covid — auctions never came back properly . . . [Previously] everyone wanted to see who was in the room.”

When artist and restaurateur Michael Chow wanted to sell Francis Bacon’s “Portrait of George Dyer Talking” (1966), he asked commercial gallery Lévy Gorvy Dayan to hold an invitation-only private auction. The sale last August, which took place in a specially mocked-up sale room in the gallery’s New York space, started at $50mn and the six telephone bidders included Israeli shipping magnate Eyal Ofer, according to people familiar with the sale.

Chow declined to comment. The identity of the seller and the name of the painting have not been previously reported. The painting last sold for £42.2mn (then $70.3mn) at Christie’s in 2014.

Auction sales fell 20 per cent to $23.4bn in 2024, the lowest level since 2020, according to the Art Basel/UBS Art Market Report 2025, “with double-digit declines in the value and volume of sales in the $10mn-plus segment”.

Private sales processes played on the psychology of collectors who desired exclusivity, said Brett Gorvy of Lévy Gorvy Dayan.

“Public auctions are a democratic process — if you can afford to buy you’ll be in the room — but in [the Bacon sale], you had to be invited to participate.” Collectors had to sign non-disclosure agreements.

Gorvy said the gallery had chosen a summer sale because “frankly it was when [the bidders] were on holiday on their boats, so there’s no other distraction than this major object”.

Last year, Russian billionaire Dmitry Rybolovlev sold Mark Rothko’s “No 6 (Violet, Green and Red)” to Ken Griffin of hedge fund Citadel for about $195mn in a private auction through Christie’s. The painting had been one work involved in Rybolovlev’s long-running legal dispute with his former art adviser Yves Bouvier over allegations of overcharging (which Bouvier denied).

Jeremy Hodkin, who first reported the Rothko sale in his Canvas art-market newsletter, said private auctions were a tactic only for the few: “This type of format isn’t for selling a $10mn Warhol, it’s for selling a $100mn Warhol.”

The desire for privacy can be motivated by the embarrassment of financial need, wanting to be rid of a contested work or simply discretion. Auction houses and galleries have long offered private sales, but the competitive auction element is new.

As the attraction of private auctions has increased, organisers have explored different ways of holding them. In some instances, bidders are invited to see the work of art, typically in a warehouse or art-storage facility, and are then given a window in which to bid, according to a wealth manager who has collector clients.

Loïc Gouzer, who founded Fair Warning, an auction app for approved bidders, said private auctions offered “confidentiality combined with competitive bidding”. He said Fair Warning was developing technology so it could hold what he called “dark auctions” for invited bidders only.

My personal style signifier is my short, boyish haircut. It suits my personality, plus it’s super-easy to manage. I just use a bit of suncream to tame it. The way I move, which is quite androgynous, also seems to stand out to people. I don’t live in a big town and people often mistake me for a boy. When they realise I’m a woman – and a mother – it’s confusing for them. They can’t place me.

I always wanted to work in a circus. I got into acrobatics by coincidence. My mother, who was a dancer, was touring with a theatre group and one of her colleagues happened to be a circus clown; she recruited me when I was six. We were trained by a former acrobat from the main circus in Moscow. It was hard, Russian-style training, going beyond our limits sometimes. At 13 or 14, I realised I didn’t want to become a professional acrobat and began skateboarding. Then I thought I’d become a stuntwoman, but after a knee injury I needed time to recover, so I went to study. I thought I’d do design at Rietveld Academy in Amsterdam, but when they saw my portfolio they were impressed by my photographs and encouraged me to pursue that. It wasn’t that I picked photography; photography picked me. There’s a lot in life you can’t control; you need to keep an open mind. 

Training as an acrobat taught me endurance. If you want to reach a goal, you need to do something 10,000 times – then you’ll be good at it. I believe in routine.

The last thing I bought and loved was a black vintage kayak from eBay. It’s huge – around 4m long. I got it for next to nothing. I need to do some light repairs before I get it into a river. On the listing, it was shown standing up – it looked like a sculpture or beautiful art object. I think it could end up in a gallery some day. 

Kids run all the time when they’re excited. I forgot about that feeling

The best souvenir I’ve brought home is a red vase from a little village in the Swiss Alps. It reminded me of something my grandmother once had. It was a two-hour hike to get back to where we were staying, and I carried it under my arm the whole way. Otherwise, I enjoy leaving a place with photographs. I took an image at a random gas station on a recent trip to Spain. I looked around and just had this feeling of being in a movie. I started performing in front of the camera – my work captures life’s absurdity through strange acro-movements, which I capture via digital display. It was quite funny because my dog started performing too. One of the images ended up on the poster of Strasbourg’s Pôle-Sud dance festival. 

My style icon is Lady Di. A classic. She’s one of the few people I can think of where every phase of dressing was great. I especially love her sporty looks – always the best colour combinations. 

The worst gift I’ve ever given was a beach holiday for my husband and me in the Netherlands. We both love sports, and on the first day we arrived I gave him a body check while we were playing basketball and broke his foot. It didn’t break badly but enough that the holiday was ruined. The rest of the week he could only sit on the veranda and look out into nature.

The best book I’ve read in the past year is A Whole Life by Austrian novelist Robert Seethaler. It’s a simple story about a man who chooses to live a life of solitude in the Swiss Alps. I found it very touching because you can see how short life is in the end. It’s just the blink of an eye. That reality is what connects us. 

The best gifts I’ve received were tickets to a Nick Cave concert in a small castle in Germany. It was summer and very intimate. We were surrounded by beautiful air. It was also not long after that unfortunate holiday. My partner still couldn’t walk properly.

I recently discovered running. I started at the beginning of the year, but at that point it was more of a gallop. Now I run at least five days a week. I forgot how amazing it is for the body, and what happens when you start to get into a rhythm and sweat. As an acrobat, I’ve always been more focused on stretching or things in a yoga direction. But there’s something about speed. Kids run all the time when they’re excited. I forgot about that feeling. 

I have a collection of high heels, which I mainly use to shoot with. I bought my first pair around 2009 while I was studying in Amsterdam and probably have 30 to 40 now – some are completely destroyed. I’ll run, jump and go into water with them. Then I like to paint them or give them a new form. 

The best way to make me laugh is with any kind of silly, improvisational dancing – something that really connects me to other people. It’s this ping-pong effect where you can laugh with and at each other. 

In my fridge you’ll always find lots of raw vegetables. And ice cubes, which are super-refreshing to put on your face when you’re tired. It’s very simple and healthy in there. When we were children, my brother and I always fought over the salad. Other kids were fighting over chocolate; we were fighting over the last few salad leaves. My kids are not the same. My daughter will only have one or two bites of lettuce, and my son is a carnivore. Every time we walk past a butcher, he gets this look in his eye.

A place that means a lot to me are the woods near my house in Wuppertal. Every morning after I drop my kids off at school, I’ll go for an hour-long run or hike, taking a different path each time. Sometimes I go off-road, navigating through the oak and beech trees. It’s a perfect location to contemplate and think about the day. I really enjoy being alone among the greenery. 

When I need to feel inspired, I move. I’m not coming up with anything if I’m sitting around. It can be physical movement, but it can also be driving in a car or travelling by train. As soon as there’s movement, the thoughts start to flow.

An indulgence I’d never forgo is coffee. I’m addicted to cappuccinos with whole milk. In the evening when I go to bed, I’m already dreaming of that first sip. 

The last items of clothing I added to my wardrobe were some brown Brazilian slippers and a few pairs of old-lady trousers from a second-hand store in Wuppertal, where I live. It’s one of those drives run by the church, where a lot of items end up after people have passed away; no one ever really goes in there. One is blue with white stripes, another is white with blue stripes and I found a third pair in beige. They feel like loved pieces that a person really cared about. I like the idea that I can take an item over with that same kind of respect for it. 

I believe in stress. I can be very happy after a good fight with my partner. I’m a really stormy person, so if I’m angry, I’m really angry. Fighting can soften you. 

My hotel pet peeve is when they try to make the room feel too nice or personal. I prefer it when it is clearly just for service and sleep. Otherwise it can feel fake. I also hate that you can’t ever open the windows fully. I need fresh air. 

The best way to spend €20 is on a simple bottle of wine, olives, cheese – nothing too strong – and bread. Go for a long walk and enjoy it when you’re super-exhausted. It becomes extra-delicious. 

The one artist whose work I would collect if I could is the German visual artist Rebecca Horn. I love her videos, but it would be amazing to have an image of her in costume, transforming into some hybrid, mythical creature. There’s one from 1970, Unicorn, where she designed a white horn sculpture and bodice to be worn by another female performer, who she captured walking majestically through a field over 12 hours. I love ’70s performance art. I saw a lot of Pina Bausch pieces as a child. I don’t refer to her directly in my own work, but she for sure has an influence on it. 

The last music I downloaded was some abstract, transcendental flute sounds by André 3000. He’s from a rap background but has turned totally esoteric. In the past I was never really a music person. I always felt like I didn’t have good enough taste; when you’re young, there’s all this pressure to listen to “cool stuff”. Now I know what I like, what touches me and what music I can really move to. 

I’d never part with my analogue Hasselblad 500C camera. I bought it off a photographer for €500 during my studies; even he found it difficult to give it away. I don’t tend to shoot analogue any more so I’ve thought about selling it a few times. But I can’t. It’s such a beautiful object.

There are two kinds of happiness. The first is an extreme, absolute rush of adrenaline. It’s like a drug – it’s not happiness that holds for very long. The second is when you feel good with everything that surrounds you, and that what you’re doing makes sense. 

My favourite location to shoot at is the Ruhr in west Germany. It used to be the main coal-mining region, and the waste rock has been transformed into huge stone heaps, which are open to the public to climb. There is a sculpture by Richard Serra atop the Schurenbachhalde summit. Walking around the area feels like you’re on the moon. 

In another life, I would have been a shepherd. I’m very happy in my own company and could imagine a much simpler life. A friend of mine has a tiny house in the Italian Alps that’s very rustic. We stayed there for two weeks and it was one of the best holidays I’ve ever had. Being in this hut, making a fire, talking, eating, going for a hike, looking out at the landscape. I realised that you don’t need much to be happy. That is the blind spot of western society. We have completely forgotten about our connection to the planet.

The beauty staples I’m never without are Dado Sens Sun Cream for my hair and red lipstick. I’m not fussed about the brand but it needs to be Ferrari-red. Dado Sens Sun Cream SPF30, £19.42

My favourite room in my house is what we call the “moving room”. There’s not much in there, but it has three big, south-facing windows with an open view of the city. I’ll often lie on the carpet and stretch, read a book or even do some naked sunbathing. It really is the place to hang out.

I believe in life after death, but I’m not religious. I believe in energy and that energy can’t be destroyed. A good metaphor for this is water, which constantly changes condition. It can be fluid and then evaporate into the clouds, or turn hard as ice. I don’t think we have just one form. 

I’m really addicted to podcasts. I listen to one every day while I’m hiking or editing images. My current favourite is Tetragrammaton by record producer Rick Rubin, who is always profiling someone interesting. One of my favourite episodes was with Nick Cave. Rubin’s interview style is very direct, very calm, very personal. It’s strange how close you feel to his subjects.

On my Instagram For You page, you’ll find lots of Open Call suggestions for artist residencies. But it’s weird because I’m not looking for them, and they are almost always out of date. And then videos of funny dance moves. I don’t like videos where someone hurts themselves. But the silly, childish videos can stay. 

 The best bit of advice I ever received was from my mother, who told me very early on that you have to believe in who you are, what you love and just go for it. It doesn’t matter what other people tell you. If you trust your intuition, you will be successful. Everybody is special. I think that is life’s challenge. You need to find out who you are and what your skills are. And your skills might be what other people see as a flaw. 

When news broke in 2021 that Eric Idle had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, dismay was followed by relief when he survived to get the all-clear. Now 83, Idle is thriving and about to embark on his first UK tour since 1973.

Over haddock and chips in London last month, a gentle and friendly Idle answered questions submitted by readers and fellow writers, actors and comedians about his time as a Python, Broadway smash Spamalot – his musical adaptation of Monty Python and the Holy Grail – as well as selfies, Peter Cook and why he feels sorry for the royals.

What’s genuinely funny about Donald Trump? Tracy Ullman
There’s nothing funny about Donald Trump. What will be funny is when he leaves office and we have a big party and dance in the streets. Trump seems to have no end of capacity for stupidity. I think he’s a treasonous monster who works for Putin.

Every summer I go to France because I can’t stand the news. I can’t stand hearing about that man every minute of every day. They’re completely obsessed by him in the US. It’s like they’re addicted to him.

Since you have made so many people happy to laugh or sing out loud, what’s the best thing in a day that gives you a smile? traleebob
My friends are either comedians or musicians, so we play and sing all the time and I like that. It’s lovely because you are not yourself any more. You are part of this human thing going on. What makes me proudest is that Always Look on the Bright Side of Life has become a funeral song. I find that very moving.

You’ve taught generations to laugh at death, class, religion and even bad theatre. Is there anything left you haven’t skewered that you still dream of turning into a joke? Catherine Zeta-Jones
That’s a difficult question. If I thought of it, I would! I think the point of comedy is to examine everything. It’s very scary now because they’re stopping comedians at the border and if they have pictures of Trump on their phone they don’t like, they don’t let them in.

I’ve had a green card for about 28 years. I’d be proud to be thrown out because I’d be in very select company. The last English comedian to be thrown out of America for political reasons was Charlie Chaplin.

Whether you can go too far in comedy depends on who you are. If you’re Lenny Bruce, you would begin by going too far. But I do take note of it. If I’m going to do a tour, I will ask my goddaughter: can I say this? There are certain categories of people you don’t want to offend, who have been laughed at, and that was completely unjust and unfair. But I think you are obliged to question things to have any relevance at all. Otherwise, you’re just telling jokes.

I know people coming up and asking for selfies and such would be a problem in the real world, but are you able to go and just sit in a pub for a few drinks or have a Sunday dinner in peace in public? Harrymeadows
I used to be really unpleasant. Then Robin Williams taught me that that sort of encounter is very important to people. So be nice, not brusque, because they’ll never forget it. But you don’t want to spend 20 minutes with them, so when they come up, I say: “I’m Eric, what’s your name?” Then they become a person and see you as a person, too. There’s a human connection, not some stupid, starry thing. It becomes more normal and easier to leave.

George Harrison agreed to fund Life of Brian because he wanted to see it. If he hadn’t been so forward-thinking and unfazed by controversy, might we have lost an iconic, groundbreaking movie? Les Dennis
He changed my life. We were very close. I was there at his deathbed. He wasn’t frightened of death. He thought he’d escape rebirth. I said: “I’d give anything to be reborn.” Only thing we ever disagreed on. He still laughed when I said it.

A lot of being funny is the lack of a censor mechanism. I said at George’s funeral: “I’d like to thank Marlboro, without whom you wouldn’t be here this morning.” Huge laugh. It’s really not the right thing to say, but also, let’s name the names of people responsible. The way people respond to comedy is not to think and then decide to laugh. They find themselves laughing spontaneously. And they also start to trust that this person will tell the truth no matter what.

I think aliens have a sense of humour, because it’s about self-knowledge. Every society has one, as do some animals. AI, meanwhile, can only copy. I don’t think it would ever say something remarkably and originally funny. That’s its weakness.

Do you listen to audiobooks? RDMiller
I’m a big reader but it’s the voice of the author I want to hear in my head. I think a lot of the audiobook business is a scam. They pay badly. They rip you off and you work for days reading the damn thing. And I never want to hear my voice back.

I’ve read, presumably based on Monty Python and Beyond the Fringe, that nice people went to Oxford, and not so nice people went to Cambridge. Any thoughts on this? Maldontyke
That’s absolute bollocks. All politicians went to Oxford, because they do PPE, and the nice, clever people went to Cambridge. I like Cambridge people.

Which comedian, from any time, do you believe would have complimented the Pythons ensemble? BanjoPlayingFool
Dan Ackroyd, because he was a writer and a performer and could melt his ego into a crowd. On the whole, we didn’t try and upstage each other on Python. You were supportive.

Without going into specific facts and figures, how much more money have you made from Spamalot than Monty Python’s Flying Circus and, given that many of the core elements were generated from the efforts of the whole circus, do your former comedy teammates get a ton of royalties from Spamalot? (I’m assuming not). DrJWCC
They got more fucking money than they’ve ever been grateful for. They got fucking millions and they’re miserable and horrible and bitchy about it. I spent 20 years working for Python and then two years on the O2 show. They were there for two weeks.

I’m not really motivated by money, to be honest. Anyway, the producers get all the fucking money and divide it up according to the contract. Someone sued us for years, saying I was paying the Pythons money from my back pocket. And I said: why would I risk going to an American jail to give John Cleese more money?

Pythons always played the women – why? Michael Palin told me it was because you were all scared of them. Tracy Ullman
Well, he’s definitely scared of them. I wasn’t scared of women because when I was president of Footlights, then an all-male club, I changed the laws to admit women. The first woman who came in was Germaine Greer. It’s always hard to find a funny woman if you don’t admit them to the club. I was very proud of doing that.

I think the reason was that six people were just trying to grab a decent role. But if the joke was about sex, it was better if we had a real woman – it was weird otherwise. But if it was about our mothers, it was funnier it we played them.

I think some of them were scared of women. John Cleese and Graham Chapman were very nasty to Miriam Margolyes and she’s hated them ever since. I always have to remind her that we were friends and I stayed at her apartment. It wasn’t all of us. But most of that generation were terribly cruel.

In the early 70s, I was told that “Nurse Idle”, who gave me my school vaccinations, was in fact your mum. Could this have been true, or have I been living under a heinous misapprehension for 50 odd years. If it is true, then it counts as the closest I’ve ever got to a celebrity ConradTurner
Oh yes, that’s true. She did give school vaccinations and she would have hated Robert F Kennedy Jr because she knew how important they were.

I love your songs and sing them frequently, including the now unacceptable I Like Chinese, which increasingly just sounds like pragmatic foreign policy. But how did it feel in those early days being the Python who wasn’t part of a writing team, given there was Chapman/Cleese and Jones/Palin, and then Gilliam as the fully odd one out? Steve Coogan
I don’t like being part of a writing team because I don’t like talking before lunch. I wake about 5:30am and love discovering what’s in your mind. You don’t judge it, you just find it, write it and create it, and then do a lot of rewriting.

What was hard was that the other Pythons had two votes to one. When I first met George Harrison, we bonded immediately and talked all night and I realised we played the same roles in our groups. There were these two heavy, powerful blocs, and we were in the middle. We didn’t have as much power but we learned a lot from it.

And actually I did find somebody I could work with: the musician John Du Prez, who was a brilliant partner for 44 years. He could do everything I couldn’t and it was fabulous.

Other than George Harrison, what was your relationship like with the other three Beatles? Did you count them as friends too? Jwillchad
I’m still a friend of Ringo’s, and Paul’s always very nice and friendly, but we’re not close.

If you could have written one song, which one would it be, and why? ThankYouJohn
Song to the Moon, from the opera Rusalka by Dvořák. Beautiful. Unbelievably fine. But I don’t feel: oh gosh, I wish I’d written, say, a Beatles song, because they did it so well.

You always seemed to perform so unselfconsciously and with so much abandon and joy – and write so efficiently and quickly and confidently. Was there ever a time you were insecure about your work, either as a writer or an actor? And if so, what did you do to overcome those self-doubts and nerves? Hank Azaria
I think the answer to that is ars est celare artem – “the art is to hide the art”, which is the motto of the Footlights. There’s a great deal of work and effort that goes into making it look effortless. The secret of performing comedy is to really know what you’re gonna do.

Whenever you start, you’re insecure. If you feel secure, you’re a bit of an arsehole. And even now, I’m never secure, but always exploring and trying to improve. I don’t feel I write; I feel I rewrite. Spamalot was about 17 drafts. It got better as my mind resolved things. That’s what I do when I perform: I write a draft, and another, and I keep going until I’m confident with every bit. It’s always a theorem for me: if I say this, they may laugh. And then you find out.

I remember once that the Pythons were on the Tonight Show. We’d been over in Canada touring and they laughed like crazy at everything we did. But on the Tonight Show they were just silent. We did 20 minutes, then ran outside and we laughed and laughed and laughed. There’s nothing funnier than people not laughing at you.

The day this will be published is my birthday, so, related to that, what has been your favourite celebration of your birthday? Nanu
I think the older you get, the less you like to celebrate your birthday. On my 80th, I had my friend Puddles do a Pity Party. I don’t like being the centre of attention like that. It’s a bit embarrassing. In my private life, I’m not well-known; I come somewhere below the dogs. Nobody goes: “Oh, good morning, legend!” I live a very quiet life.

Which comedian, living or dead, do you most admire? Jane Leeves
Peter Cook, Billy Connolly, Robin Williams, Eddie Izzard. I would say my comedic voice is somewhere between Eric Morecambe and Peter Cook. When I was growing up, I loved Frankie Howerd and Jimmy Edwards. Comedians used to go from place to place doing the same act and lots of them were really funny but TV finished them off, because they couldn’t adapt or write enough new material.

In the oncoming revolution that may sweep the UK, whose side will you be on – and what to do with the royals? Darkness
I don’t think there’ll be a revolution in England. They’ve already screwed my life up, anyway. Eight years ago [pre-Brexit], I could live in any country in Europe. Now, I can only spend three months a year in my house in Provence, and I built the bloody place.

I’ve lived in LA for 30 years, but it seems to me that the UK class system is still just as prevalent. I think it’s a complete waste of time and it filters down. It stops some people – and it spoils others.

I feel really sorry for the royals. Sometimes they’re very nice and human, and other times they become monsters, because if you are called “Sir” at five, you are putting trouble into people. King Charles is very funny. He was at Cambridge. He did comedy and loved Spike Milligan and would always come to Billy Connolly’s. But it’s not a society I would be happy to live in.

The thing I like about America is it created itself; it’s the only place that wrote a script for itself. But it needs a rewrite to bring it up to date. The second amendment says at 16 you are allowed a major weapon of war. I really think they’re serious about wanting to get rid of liberals and lefties. They’re very crazy.

You’ve described feeling abandoned when you were placed in a boarding school aged seven, and you’ve also said you like living in the US because you’re “more comfortable not feeling a part of everything”. Do you think the sense of detachment that comes from being a foreigner is always a response to childhood trauma? Charlesosbourneprague
Yes, I was abandoned, but I like being a foreigner. I like living in France because they’re very nice to me, and it isn’t my culture so you don’t have to worry. And it’s slightly like that in America.

When I’m in the UK, I miss the wife and the daughter, but when I’m in the US I don’t really miss the UK because I have the football and cricket on.

Are you going to smash Titus Andronicus or Iago for us one of these days? Or is “shouting at night”, as Ralph Richardson once called it, too damned tiring? I’d queue overnight for you. Janet Suzman
No, I’ve done my Shakespeare, back in Cambridge. I couldn’t do it every night. I don’t know how people do Broadway – eight performances a week! On tour, I insist on having a night off after each show. The audience want your energy. You need to be fully there and as confident as possible in order to relax them.

Janet was brilliant in Nuns on the Run. Amazing actor. And Robbie Coltrane was wonderful. Michael Palin turned that part down, but it was much better with Robbie. He was just so funny as a nun.

What didn’t people realise about Robin Williams? bumble
That he was so sick. I’d invited him to perform in the O2 shows. He said he didn’t want to and I said: ‘Never mind, just come to the last night.’ He was going to but didn’t. And shortly after came this really shocking thing: he killed himself. Next door to his wife, too.

It makes you very paranoid. The only good thing about Robin’s death is that Lewy body dementia is more recognised as a disease and people put money into it. His suffering was enormous.

Some of the songs you have written have become iconic. Did you realise that this was the direction your abilities were heading in as a young Python? Suzy Eddie Izzard
I began to play guitar aged 12 when Elvis came up. At Cambridge, I first learned a lot from Bill Oddie, who wrote really funny songs with great lyrics, like Flanders and Swann or Tom Lehrer.

I just wonder, in your view, what you think is the solution to the narcissistic oafs of this world getting into power? TheRandinator
People with narcissistic personality disorder are always headed for power, so I would have them psychoanalysed before they can be elected. Mental health checks would stop them.

Do you know where I left my keys? David Mamet
That’s very funny. David once said the funniest thing he ever heard was the speech I made at Mike Nichols’ 75th birthday. I remember looking up and thinking: “Oh shit, I’m killing David Mamet.” He actually couldn’t breathe.

Is there anything you regret? Any piece of work in your past you now think of as rubbish? Bernardgeorgeshore
I don’t think of things as rubbish, only unfinished writing.

Was Peter Cook the funniest person you’ve ever known? MFLOON
Yes. Beyond the Fringe changed my life. I saw that and that’s all I wanted to be. I was at boarding school and didn’t know you were allowed to laugh at the queen and the army and religion. It was very liberating.

If you hadn’t pursued a life as a writer and performer, is there anything else you might have found a career in? Jane Leeves
I dread to think. The great thing about doing comedy is you never have to have a proper job. I don’t think of my life as a career; I think of it as a life.

In the Python TV shows and movies, you seemed to be enjoying yourself the most. Were you? PookieFugglestein
Some things in Python were very enjoyable and some were not. Holy Grail was cold and miserable. Sometimes that makes it funny. One of the worst things you can have in comedy is enough money.

Python was quite a lot of arguing and fights and good work is often like that. The best thing about showbiz is when it’s over. I think if you’re enjoying yourself, then you’re not acting or giving, you’re just having a good time. Well, that’s not funny.

You’re quite rightly celebrated as pioneering, or at least bringing to mainstream attention, new types of comedy – surrealist, satirical, mockumentary – but is there anything that’s struck you as new or inventive in comedy that’s come out in the last 20 or so years that’s made you think “I wish I’d written that”? LarboIreland
I watch very little. I see a lot of Netflix thrillers. I don’t go to the movies because they’re very boring and for 12-year-olds. I don’t watch news and I don’t read newspapers.

Have you got any tickets for Chelsea? Bill Oddie
Bill and I used to have Chelsea season tickets next to each other in the 60s. I learned a lot about songwriting from observing Bill. He was effortless. I don’t think he feels that confident about himself any more, which is a shame.

How did the Sit on My Face song get created? How did you come up with that? Mooreelat
It’s actually based on a very famous song called Let the Rest of the World Go By by Vera Lynn. Maggie Smith gave me a beautiful leatherbound copy of the lyrics to Sit on My Face because when she was working on a film with Michael Palin, she would make the entire crew sing it every day before they began. Isn’t that sweet?

Who do you find the most challenging to work with, actors or comedians? Jane Leeves
I appreciate actors more and more. I learned so much from watching Mike Nichols giving notes. When he was firm, he’d sometimes make the actors cry. But he’d always say: you gotta take it seriously. If you don’t, why should the audience?

From your memoirs, you always seem very appreciative of the female form. Is that still the case? bumble
I’m very grateful for it. But I’ve been with my current wife for 48 years, so I have got used to it.

Do you get back to South Shields these days? Fromthenorth
Not since I was two. I was hoping to go this time, and to Wolverhampton, where I haven’t been since I was 16. But I don’t think we’re playing nearby.

Of all the projects you worked on, which was your favourite? Nicens_boi
The Rutles and Spamalot were both just fabulous times. One of the things I talk about in the show, I call Mock and Roll, because we were all the same generation. The art school kids went into music, and we went into comedy. My theory is that Python is the first group of Mock and Roll, because we ended up in the Hollywood Bowl, like the Beatles. And I think the second group in Mock and Roll was Saturday Night Live. On the first show I hosted, Jim Belushi impersonated Joe Cocker to his face. They sang together and there was something magical about that.

Are you happy to be captured by AI for posthumous performances and royalties? Tracy Ullman
They don’t pay royalties. I always felt that we ought to protect our images after I saw that tacky advert with Fred Astaire and the vacuum cleaner. I felt very bad about that. So I felt that we Pythons ought to have done something to protect our image in a way that’s appropriate. But I don’t think there is a way that’s appropriate.

I have had my image done in one of those extraordinary machines where 40 cameras capture you from every angle. It was for a film they wanted to make sure they could finish. But it worries me. I don’t trust AI. I mean, look at how many times you have to correct a word. It completely misreads you. ChatGPT writing essays really bothers me. The point is to find out what we think, not what a machine thinks.

Looking back on your career, from Monty Python’s surreal comedy to Spamalot and beyond, what do you think satire can still achieve in today’s world and has its power changed since the Python days? WeirdDug
Python’s not satire. It’s the opposite. Satire ends, it’s dead. You don’t watch early episodes of Saturday Night Live and think: “Oh, Gerald Ford fell downstairs!” Python was always generic comedy and that survives longer.

Who was your favourite Arthur King in Spamalot? Just kidding. As you know, it remains one of the best jobs I’ll ever have. Is there a job or jobs that made you think: “Blimey, I’m a lucky bugger’? Sanjeev Baskar
The Olympic games closing ceremony in 2012, when I sang Always Look on the Bright Side of Life in front of 2 billion people, live. We never did a dress rehearsal. That was my first time on the stage. But you just get on and look like you know what you’re doing. After, I turned to this lovely lady, Susan Bullock, who’d sung with me, and said: “How did it go?” She said: “Are you kidding?”

Also, the American Film Institute celebration of Mike Nichols. I came on after Simon and Garfunkel, dressed as Emma Thompson in Angels in America with huge wings. I was looking at Oprah and Spielberg and all these people in the audience and said to myself: “I love my life.”