This passion for the stage manifested itself in Tinker's writing. Although he could be susceptible to the odd diatribe (notably against Sarah Kane's 'Blasted'), for the most part his columns displayed enthusiasm, compassion and the kind of measured criticism that was, more often than not, constructive. Tinker was a great champion of West End theatre, constantly rallying to its defence whenever there were suggestions that its demise was imminent. And he was a strong proponent of the overnight review, which, he believed, kept theatre as newsworthy as possible. Allied to a forthright, straight-talking style, he soon found a loyal audience amongst the Mail's middle-brow, middle-England readership.

A sample of his criticism appears in James Inverne's book, starting with his humble days at the Brighton Evening Argus and continuing through to the prominent page 3 slot at the Mail. Unsurprisingly, in a career that covered 30-odd years, Tinker's judgement could sometimes go awry. He was less than impressed with the RSC's Les Miserables for example, when it premiered in 1985. "This bold Gallic import", he wrote, "leaves one curiously uninvolved". With characteristic candour he sniffily referred to it as having reduced Hugo's epic vision to merely "The Glums". The diminutive critic could also be prone to the odd bout of mawkishness - after attending a private showing of 'Sunset Boulevard' he announced that "it gripped me until the tears sprang unbidden."

Sandwiched between these reviews are a number of eulogies from various theatre-folk and critics, including Cameron Mackintosh, Willy Russell, Antony Sher, Alan Ayckbourn, Peter Hall, Kenneth Branagh, and Steven Berkoff. It's a measure of his fairness and objectivity that Tinker could be brutally honest about their work, and yet still count many of them amongst his friends. While it may be true that no-one has erected a statue to a critic, Inverne's book serves as a suitable monument to the work of one of Britain's best loved theatre reviewers.