I was about five minutes into a lovely chat with a man backstage at an event recently, when I asked him: “So what do you do then?” As he humbly explained that he tends to do things “on stage and stuff”, I realised, to my horror, that I was talking to a very famous actor. But no sooner had I started to turn scarlet and to say things such as, “Oh, I knew I recognised you,” (a lie) than the actor had lost his grip on the mini-cake he was trying to lift to his mouth, launching it into the air. It smooshed onto the floor, iced side down. “Oh God,” he muttered.

After I fetched him another one, I started telling him about the many other embarrassing things that had happened to me that day (there had been several). As we exchanged anecdotes, I noticed a peculiar phenomenon: none of the things we were embarrassed about had caused suffering to anyone else. Quite the opposite, in fact. This actor probably enjoyed speaking with someone who, for once, didn’t know who he was; I was relieved about having the attention snatched away from me in such theatrical fashion by an unco-operative mini-cake.

Financial Times