I've had (not in a biblical sense) many film stars, although contractual obligations, fear and a really cruddy memory prevents me from naming names.
So when my boss told me we were going to have Brad Pitt for dinner tonight my daughter was suitably impressed, begging me for a lock of his hair, his trousers, or preferably all of him, although how I would have brought him back on my motorbike in a box is a difficulty I managed to avoid.
I should have realised after we went to that film premier last week in Leicester Square; the Empire no less. For anyone not English, the Empire is where all the new important films are shown in London. There seemed to be about a million young women swooning in droves when I got there. The film turned out to be a Bollywood premier. And tonight, my boss finally allowed, was dinner with Bollywood's answer to Brad Pitt.
Now my daughter's not talking to me, so some good came out of it.