It is always heartening to see the people one loves the most getting on in the world, is it not? So LiS' heart skipped a veritable beat this afternoon - nay, maybe even two, though we then had to calm down before death beckoned - upon learning that Robert Downey Jr has decided it would be a good move to black up for his next role. Now, Robert and I have a very long and tender relationship, up there with Romeo and Juliet. Without the love. Or death (yet.)

About a year ago, I went to interview Robert in LA. And I don't mind telling you that, boy, I was beyond excited to meet this lifelong idol. Less Than Zero! Chances Are! THE PICK UP ARTIST!

Sadly, I think it is safe to say that we did not exactly hit it off. Possibly from the moment he walked into the room, saw who would be interviewing him, and walked straight out again.

I asked embarrassingly sycophantic questions but somewhere in the ether, between my mouth and his ears, they transmogrified into expressions of hate and vilification, and occasionally downright accusations of things I'd never even heard of. Possibly my favourite moment in the afternoon was as he launched into yet another Ross Kemp-like speech about how tough he is because he mixes with real men and went to, y'know, prison, he interrupted himself to order his personal assistant to heat up his soup for him. You sock it to 'em, Rob.

Anyway, we've all grown, we've all learned. And Robert seems to be expressing his contrition for last year's hoo-ha by blacking up in a film going by the name of Tropic Thunder. Yes, it may be all some hilariously metatextual joke (he's playing a white actor who blacks up - geddit?!), but I can still recognise a sign of self-flagellation when I see one. It's like the scarlet letter by skin pigmentation. But it's not enough, the hurt is still there. Come out as a Scientologist, Rob, and then we'll talk.