The most powerful vice president in US history

Villains
Quarter-zip tops, says Flora Gill in the Daily Mail, which for some reason are becoming an increasingly popular fashion choice among young-ish men. The “drippy, passive outerlayer” used to be the preserve of ghastly finance bros, but ever since Succession others have decided that they too can project “quiet luxury” with some dreary top from M&S. Enough. Quarter-zips are the red trousers of my generation – a “sartorial parasite” that needs to be destroyed.

Hero
A 77-year-old French cyclist who fell 130 feet into a ravine and survived for three days on nothing but red wine. The perseverant pensioner had cycled to the supermarket in the mountainous region of Cévennes to pick up a few bottles of vin rouge, so when his efforts to climb out failed he naturally cracked them open. He was eventually discovered by road workers, presumably a little worse for wear.

Heroes
Young people, after a poll found they were more likely than older generations to switch faiths. Some people see this as an example of the “dilettantism of modern youth”, says Giles Coren in The Times – of those “pansexual, trans-obsessed, vegan-not-vegan flip-floppers” not being able to make up their mind. But is it? What’s wrong with a pick‘n’mix approach to religion? It’s called religious freedom, and it surely beats prostrating yourself before God, “adopting all the madness of religion, and heading off to kill and die for it”. This is one thing, “possibly the only thing”, that the young have got right.

Villains
Crocodiles, according to the makers of the new David Attenborough series, Kingdom. “Animals will behave in a way that we maybe wish they didn’t, but that’s not making them a villain,” executive producer Mike Gunton tells the Telegraph. “We try not to judge. I think the only thing you do judge is crocodiles. They are absolute bastards.”

Villain
Father Mark Rowles, a 57-year-old Catholic priest in Cardiff, who has admitted in court to masquerading online as a 16-year-old race warrior – username “skinheadlad1488” – who fantasised about bombing mosques and shooting black people in the head. He told police he was “lonely and had a sexual fetish for role play”. We’re accustomed to priests having “eccentric hobbies”, says Sam Leith in The Spectator, but this is a real “humdinger”.

Hero
Emily Paton, a 14-year-old from Jersey who completed five ultra-marathons in five days. The tireless teenager ran 50km (31 miles) each day around the island, raising more than £5,400 for a breast cancer charity, after her mum’s friend was diagnosed with the disease. “I really enjoy pushing myself,” she tells the BBC, “breaking boundaries, breaking limits.”

On a grey autumn morning, says Margaret Mitchell in The Spectator, the apples at the National Fruit Collection in Kent look vivid, piled high in “pyramids of carmine, salmon and golden orange” around specially bred dwarf trees. Their branches are within reach, but picking is forbidden. The collection holds more than 2,200 distinct breeds of apple – two of each variety, “like a pomologist’s Noah’s ark”. For romantics like me, the collection preserves something important about Britain. The Arthurian Isle of Avalon gets its name from the Welsh word for apple; the ancient tradition of wassailing involved running through orchards banging pots and pans to ward off bad spirits and pouring cider on the roots of the oldest apple tree to augur a fine harvest. Isaac Newton’s theory of gravity “fell from a Flower of Kent”. And it’s a reminder, in a bland, standardised era of Braeburns, Pink Ladies and Golden Delicious, that there’s a whole world of apples out there, like Ashmead’s Kernel – succulent as a “well-devilled marrow bone”. If you can find one.

Arguing the toss over 007

A true gentleman is polite, stylish and self-aware, says etiquette expert William Hanson in Country Life. He writes “prompt and pithy” thank-you letters and uses waiters’ names in restaurants. He never runs for things in public, eats on the go or truly cares where someone went to school. He should be a good kisser, drink gin from a tumbler not a ghastly balloon and while it’s perfectly acceptable to enjoy playing a sport, he shouldn’t “bang on about it”. Hair gel is a no but moisturiser is a must. He should know how to pronounce Moët correctly and remember that “Babe” is a pig, “not a term of endearment”. A true gentleman poaches or scrambles eggs “without a fuss” and is in no doubt that “Roger Moore is the best Bond”.

I believe a female take is required on this matter, says Deborah Ross in The Times. As every wife knows, a true gentleman doesn’t leave “tiny piles of pocket contents” everywhere or disclose his day’s bowel movements. He doesn’t shout “watch out, watch out!” when you’re driving – “and have been really rather safely for 40-odd years” – or offer a shortcut that is, in fact, “longer than the accepted route”. He never says: “What, you’re having a fourth sausage?” or comments on the fact that anyone can see the rising number of anti-ageing creams in the bathroom aren’t working. He never has to be specifically asked to look after his own children and he is not given to observing that Andrew Tate “has a point with some of the things he says”. Yes, he can scramble eggs without a fuss, but he will also “Clean. The. Pan.” And a true gentleman has no doubt that “Daniel Craig is the best Bond”.