The first thing to say is that Lloyd Webber is a total theatre animal. He has a nose for what will work on a stage, whether it be an odd collection of TS Eliot poems (Cats), a mad 19th-century melodrama (The Phantom of the Opera) or the inspirational anarchy of a scruffy teacher (School of Rock). Sometimes, as with the superfluous Stephen Ward (about the man at the centre of the Profumo scandal), the nose seems badly blocked. But reading Lloyd Webber’s recently published mammoth memoir, Unmasked, you realise where this instinct comes from.