Now that you all mention it, I do remember an occasion when - in the streets of some place cognitively halfway between Berlin and Glasgow - you broke down and finally revealed all those vulnerabilities that have been poked about for years by all your anonymous commenters. I awkwardly tried to console you (vowing never to say hello to a celebrity again).

It's similar to my dream of Obama at a nightclub, dancing up against my leg with rejected gay desperation in eyes. I seem to have some subconscious urge for confident figures to just go ahead, drop all their defences and finally submit to pity.