New book “The Big Goodbye: ‘Chinatown’ and the Last Years of Hollywood” burbles about how movietown egos all come in one size — extra large.

Like when Jack Nicholson was running hot, Sam Wasson writes: “His first day of shooting was always a minefield of concerns.”

Nicholson always needed only to discover the character’s id or odds so as to lock into whatever personal process the actor thought he’d then need to use. Full knowledge of whatever action the character was doing he didn’t then yet need to know. Why? Because that would curb the precious likelihood of spontaneous discovery he needed to save for the camera — whatever all that means.

He wanted to know the complete inside of the character. But not the outside.

Translation? Nicholson made it up as he went along. Now you know Jack about Jack.

Messing with the wrong breed

Doggone it . . . I have a bone to pick with our great brilliant columnist Bob McManus. Last week he barked: “Teacup [Yorkies] are the doggies all the other pups at Westminster make fun of — tiny, toothless and about as far removed from ancestral wolfdom as can be imagined.”

He then growled some more, and my own brand-new 4-month-old, tiny, 3 ³/₄-pound JellyBean — with lots of teeth — just arrived. My Yorkshire Terrier is so upset he unleashed his opinion right on Bob’s column.

This baby puppy, the fourth Yorkshire Terrier I’ve had, could be a mascot for our city. He’s my NEW YORKie. His breeder, Paula Segnatelli of Barnhill Kennels in Connecticut, is also rabid over McManus’ column.

Our ferocious JellyBean demands an apology — or some Great Dane may suddenly pay Bob a visit.

Royal flush

We’re up to our curtsies in royalty. Besides semi Prince Harry and his never Princess me-me-Meghan’s hunt for California property, there exists upon us some serious curtsying and bowing.

May 7 is the Claude Monet-Giverny-Versailles Foundation event. It’s “a prompt 7 o’clock receiving line” and “prompt 7:45 seated dinner” and “at a prompt 8 o’clock His Royal Highness the Prince Charles-Emmanuel of Bourbon-Parma will speak.” And there’s a royal receiving line, where you better be prompt. Anyone late gets cold porridge in a tumbrel.

Besides that, there’s Lady Anne Glenconner. Age 87. Her ladyship’s author of “Lady in Waiting: My Extraordinary Life in the Shadow of the Crown,” a memoir, out March 24. Seems she spent decades as lady-in-waiting to HRH Princess Margaret, sister to Her Maj.

This new book has juice that’s in the popular new series “The Crown.” I mean, have respect, we’re talking real type high-class regal royals.

It’s secrets from a lifelong insider. March 25 she’ll talk with Tina Brown at the 92nd Street Y on what’s it like in the royal circle — or maybe what’s it like running around inside its shake-ups.

Barking up the wrong tree

An official Democrat survey came to me requesting a $500-plus donation plus answers to: issues the GOP and Senate Republicans are out of step with … And: Rank Dem electoral priorities by their most/least importance level … And: TV and radio ads, or door-to-door canvassing, or rapid response to Republican dishonesty empowers candidates to reach more people … And: how to improve community-based get-out-the-vote efforts.

How about throwing out these surveys and just getting better candidates???!

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To bolster our NYPD, de Blasio’s organized a new protection idea. A bra equipped with a gun holster. Now a woman will be safer on the streets. She’ll be carrying three 38’s.

Only in New York, kids, only in New York.