I was interested to read last Friday the comments of Benedict Nightingale, the drama critic of The Times, on the surprising laughter from the audience during the National Theatre’s new production of Racine’s Phèdre. By strange coincidence he provided as an example, in the opening paragraph of a feature article, precisely the same section of the play that I had cited, again with a comment on the laughter, in my review in Weekend the day before. This is where Phèdre, played by the marvellous Helen Mirren, having described the horror and emotional turmoil she has endured through unrequited love for her stepson Hippolytus (played by Dominic Cooper, pictured with Dame Helen) realises that this has only been the “overture” to her woes now that she has discovered he is in love with someone else.

For Benedict the laughter was an illustration of bad audience behaviour (the theme of his article); for me, it was no more than a natural response to the unbearable tension of the moment and, indeed, to something rather comic in Phèdre’s wallowing in her misery.

I argued my case in a brief email to Benedict. He replied that he was “not sure I agree about the laughter” – a polite way of saying I was talking bilge.

But I still think I am right. Powerful corroborative evidence for my view (I am in barrister mode today!) is supplied by the fact that Benedict and I saw the show on different nights. Thus, surely, both tittering audiences must have been moved to mirth by something intrinsically comical in the script or the performance.

For a corking example of bad audience behaviour let me describe what I witnessed a few months ago at the Mill at Sonning. During the second half of the show a phone rang and rang from somewhere away to my right in the stalls. Suddenly I saw an elderly lady delve into her handbag, produce her mobile . . . and begin a conversation with her caller.

Astonishing, but true . . .