‘IN AMERICA THEY HAVE NO IDEA OF YOUR CASTING… NOTHING WITH “BADASS” WOULD REACH ME HERE

ice guys are meant to finish last, but it doesn’t seem to be impeding Tom Mison, who is about as charming as they come. On screen, and in photographs, his cheekbones and high forehead give him a kind of aristocratic hauteur, so it is disappointing to report no evidence of this in person. I arrive early for our interview, just as he is finishing the photoshoot at the back of Moncks of Dover Street in Mayfair, a smart new brasserie on the site of the much-loved Automat. Everyone is grinning happily: the photographer, stylists, assistants, waiters. We shake hands and Tom immediately starts stripping to his pants. I try to offer him some privacy, but he insists I stay. Changed into the actor’s standard mufti of black trousers, black T-shirt and jaunty