It felt strange, at first, to be watching a presentation in a resolutely small-screen format in overwhelming widescreen; and to be honest it didn’t get any less strange. Seated in unnerving proximity to the base of the screen, I had Frostrup’s waxed calves looming over me like great chicken bones, while her irrepressibly chuckly smile was about as far as you could get from the enigmatic Giacondaesque. Marlow meanwhile bounded from room to room, discoursing on Leonardo’s early life, his arrival at the court of Milan and presumed homosexuality in rapid-fire addresses to camera designed to bring a breathless nowness to the remote 16th century. The format felt two parts ‘Election Night Special’ to one of ‘Grandstand’. If Marlow didn’t actually predict a great result for Leonardo and the National Gallery, his adenoidal eagerness and slight northern accent make his commitment to arts programmes a huge loss to sports broadcasting.

The audience, who had paid £8 a head, appeared well pleased with the experience: a great introduction to the exhibition, was the general view in the foyer afterwards – "a great balance of expert opinions you’d never otherwise have the opportunity to hear", "better than straining to read the information panels". A trio of game Irish ladies in subdued leisure wear declared themselves particularly satisfied.

"But then", said one, "we are drawn to all aspects of Christ and the spiritual." And why was that? "We’re nuns."