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RICHARD LITTLEJOHN: To preach, or not to preach? That is the question, as Cumberbatch harangues £1,000-a-head audiences about Syria refugees

By Richard Littlejohn for the Daily Mail

Published: 19:52 EST, 12 October 2015 | Updated: 02:03 EST, 13 October 2015

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Benedict Cumberbatch has been packing London's Barbican Theatre with punters desperate to see his Hamlet.

Shakespeare lovers are supplemented by a nightly gaggle of salivating, self-styled Cumberbitches — dopey birds who in the normal course of events couldn't tell the difference between the Prince of Denmark and a mild cigar from Benson & Hedges.

By all accounts, he's brilliant in the role. Our own Quentin Letts lavished praise on his performance, although he thought the production overall was 'patchy, occasionally puerile'.

Appeal: Benedict Cumberbatch, who has lent his voice to Save The Children's Help Is Coming campaign, left, criticised the government's 'slow' response to the refugee crisis moments after performing in Hamlet

Tickets for the run are sold out and some are changing hands on the internet for a staggering £1,000 a pop. The price is testament to his extraordinary pulling power.

There's no doubt the boy can act. He was terrific as Alan Turing in the film The Imitation Game and his Sherlock Holmes has reinvented the great detective for the 21st century.

Sadly, though, young Ben's success seems to have gone to his head. Not content to be a celebrated actor, he has come to see himself as a born-again Bob Geldof.

After milking the applause at the end of the play, Cumberbatch harangues the audience for five minutes about the plight of the Syrian refugees and why Britain isn't doing enough to help them.

When a friend who had been to Hamlet a couple of weeks ago told me about this, I assumed it was a spontaneous one-off. It wasn't.

Some other friends went at the weekend and had to suffer the same speech before they could escape.

If Cumberbatch steps out of his gilded cage at the Barbican, he might notice that London is full to bursting and grinding daily to a halt

Cumberbatch urges the audience to dig deep and donate to the relief effort. As they leave the theatre, everyone is forced to run the gauntlet of volunteers rattling red buckets, with the implication that anyone who declines is heartless 'Tory scum'.

Theatregoers are exceptionally well-mannered and there are no reports of anyone walking out in disgust or heckling this impertinent posturing.

But if I'd paid anything up to a grand to watch an actor at the top of his game play Hamlet, I would be furious if he tried to exploit his celebrity by delivering a political speech for an encore.

The theatre, like the cinema, is supposed to be a sanctuary from the real world, a brief escape from the constant bombardment of bad news at home and abroad.

How dare Cumberbatch seek to manipulate people, who have paid good money to watch him perform Shakespeare, into feeling guilty about the plight of migrants?

Benedict Cumberbatch with wife Sophie at the Black Mass premiere during the BFI London Film Festival in the British capital on Sunday evening has urged audiences to donate to the relief effort

Look, I have no problem with Cumberbatch, or anyone else, campaigning for causes to which he is committed. He can join marches, address rallies, organise petitions, or stand for election, if he cares that much.

But, even if we accept that he's sincere and not just using the refugee crisis to draw attention to himself, the Barbican stage is not the place to parade his piety.

The audience should leave the theatre with the memories of the performance foremost in their minds, not their ears ringing with a lecture about how Britain has a responsibility to do more for refugees. Hamlet is what they paid for, not a party political broadcast on behalf of the Luvvie Party.

The theatre, like the cinema, is supposed to be a sanctuary from the real world, a brief escape from the constant bombardment of bad news at home and abroad

Cumberbatch was at it again on Sunday night. Fans had camped out to catch a glimpse of him at the premiere of his latest movie Black Mass.

So when he was interviewed on the red carpet, you might have expected him to talk about the film and his role as the brother of Whitey Bulger, the notorious Boston gangster.

Instead, he insisted in droning on about migrants and why this country should take in far more than the 20,000 Britain has agreed to accept over the next few years. He even wants a meeting with Theresa May.

I'd be curious to know just how much, if anything, he is contributing personally to aid programmes, given that he is said to be worth in excess of £10 million. I'd also be more convinced of his commitment if we learned that he was donating half his considerable fee for playing Hamlet to refugee organisations.

Perhaps Cumberbatch would also care to explain whether he, like Pixie Balls-Cooper and Bob Geldof, is prepared to open his own beautiful home to a Syrian migrant family.

(Although, having said that, there's still no sign of any new arrivals Chez Balls-Cooper. I'm sure we would have heard by now.)

How dare Cumberbatch seek to manipulate people, who have paid good money to watch him perform Shakespeare, into feeling guilty about the plight of migrants?

It's all very well for emoting celebrities and opportunist politicians to demand that Britain opens the door for unlimited numbers of 'refugees'. What they never explain is where all these people are supposed to live and how our already overstretched public services can be expected to cope.

If Cumberbatch steps out of his gilded cage at the Barbican, he might notice that London is full to bursting and grinding daily to a halt.

We may not be taking as many Syrians as some other countries, but over the past few years we have absorbed more than eight million immigrants. The numbers are still increasing by 300,000 a year and short of leaving the EU altogether, which Call Me Dave refuses to countenance, the Government has no idea what to do about it.

Cumberbatch is wealthy enough to insulate himself from the problems caused by mass immigration. Like most liberal luvvies, it's all upside for him, affording access to cheap domestic staff and exotic restaurants.

He's not competing with migrants for low-paid work, experiencing difficulty finding an affordable home or getting a doctor's appointment. His new son probably won't have any trouble securing a suitable school place. He'll be going to Harrow, like his dad.

So spare us the puerile lectures, Benny Boy, and stick to the day job.

Is Hyphen-Howe for the high jump now?

MPS and London's mayor Boris Johnson are demanding that Met commissioner Bernard Hyphen-Howe accounts for the conduct of his 'service' in the Leon Brittan sex abuse scandal.

Not before time. I've been banging on for years about the way British justice has been turned on its head. At last, the world appears to have caught up with me.

Arrest first, ask questions later. That seems to be the Yard's policy now. The real scandal here has been the abuse of police bail and the abuse of police powers to ransack homes and trawl for evidence and alleged 'victims'.

His position looks increasingly untenable. Boris didn't want him in the first place. He favoured Hugh Orde, but was over-ruled by Theresa May

These Gestapo tactics first came to light during the phone-hacking investigation, with many innocent journalists and their families treated like terrorists.

In light of recent developments, I wouldn't have thought Hyphen-Howe's reported three-year contract extension is nailed on yet. His position looks increasingly untenable. Boris didn't want him in the first place. He favoured Hugh Orde, but was over-ruled by Theresa May.

Now that the ordure is hitting the air- conditioning system at Westminster, fiercely ambitious Theresa could withdraw her love if Tory MPs seek Bernard's blood.

Funny how when it was journalists in the firing line, the politicians didn't want to know. Now it's closer to home, they're all over it like a rash.

Police have been prevented from wearing a 'thin blue line' Union flag badge in tribute to colleagues killed on duty.

They have been told by senior officers that it 'could cause offence to some within certain communities'.

Oh, for heaven's sake. How could a tribute to fallen coppers 'offend' anyone?

When officers die on duty, the whole extended police family feels a sense of bereavement.

Policemen were all affected by the death of PC David Phillips, mown down by a hit-and-run driver on Merseyside

Last week, I had the pleasure of addressing the annual dinner of the retired Metropolitan CID Officers' association. They were all affected by the death of PC David Phillips, mown down by a hit-and-run driver on Merseyside just three days earlier.

I was also privileged to meet two young officers who received the association's annual bravery award. PCs Harjit Sandhu and Nathan Brennan, from Limehouse, East London, responded to a horrific incident in which a teenager had murdered his mother with a claw hammer and a pair of scissors.

They managed to restrain him and summon back-up, but not before PC Brennan had been stabbed six times in the chest and suffered a dislocated shoulder. Both could easily have been killed.

What struck me most about Harjit and Nathan was that their awe-inspiring courage is matched only by their modesty. Their selfless action is a reminder that, every day, coppers may be called upon to risk their lives to keep us safe.

They should be allowed to wear their 'thin blue line' badges with honour and pride.

A postbox in Penzance may be shut because of a 'significant health and safety risk'. And what is this threat to life and limb?

According to Royal Mail manager Lucy Wilson: 'We have an issue with a number of dogs urinating against the box. If it continues, we will have no alternative but to close the box permanently to preserve the health and safety of our staff.'

Is she taking the proverbial? If this becomes official policy, there won't be a pillar box, lamp-post or tree left anywhere in Britain.

Asked by Weekend magazine about which piece of newsreel had made him laugh most, Channel 4's Jon Snow volunteered Mrs Thatcher driving a tank in 1986.

'Her long scarf blew in the wind, perilously close to the tank tracks and conjuring up images of the dancer Isadora Duncan, who was strangled when her silk scarf got caught in the wheels of the car she was travelling in.'

Laugh? I thought I'd never start. But it tells you all you need to know about self-righteous Leftie Snow, who thinks the prospect of a female Tory Prime Minister being choked to death is a source of hilarity.