We all know a celebrity or two, but the best of us refrain from bringing this random acquaintance, some hangover from school or university or from some job we once did, into the conversation for reasons of discretion and taste. And yet, it can be that one feels compelled to summon up this celebrity acquaintance from the lower depths of ones memory, often for competitive reasons. I know, of course, that it in no way reflects well on me that I have a passing acquaintance with someone who may punctually pop up on the telly or the radio. It would reflect better on me if I just kept my mouth shut and let some other fool trundle on about how Dominic Cumberbatch is a friend of a friend of his sister. But faced with this intense pressure I could well come up with one of my sorry tales: being on Gordon Ramsay’s ridiculous restaurant show about shocking restaurants he turned round or being once seen naked in a shower by Iris Murdoch, for example. I do not feel better when these anecdotes are forced out of me. I feel sullied. I should just tacitly accept my role in the shadows. It would reflect better on me. Let others seek out the celebrity acquaintance limelight.