WARNING: For those of you allergic to name-dropping, the following column may cause shortness of breath, palpitations, sweating and colonic spasms...

As most of you know, the great Hollywood film actor Tony Curtis died last week. He was a huge star, a genuine legend, probably best known for his starring role in ‘Some Like It Hot’. And I met him.

As, over the years I’ve met Charlton Heston (Ben Hur), Samuel L Jackson (Pulp Fiction), Jennifer Aniston (Friends), Robin Williams (Good Morning Vietnam) and Jeffrey Archer (prison inmate), among others.

I mention this not because I want to boast but because I think it’s in the public interest.

You see, the great thing about this job is that you sometimes get to meet your heroes (and if not your idols, at least people famous enough to turn you into a bore at parties).

And that’s important because it makes you realise how ‘human’ these stars actually are. Or, to put it more bluntly, how short, how tired, how dull.

Obviously, watching Charlton Heston, all jaw and glistening pecs on the big screen, is going to make you believe he’s really like that in real life.

But when I met him, I was taller (and I’m only 5’ 11”), his skin was wrinkly, his voice was nowhere near as deep, and his stubble didn’t look macho at all – just lazy and careless. And he slurped when he drank.

Likewise, Samuel L Jackson, supposedly the coolest ‘dude’ in Hollywood, wore a tartan cap, looked late 50s, and talked about nothing but golf.

Robin Williams acted irritable, dressed terribly, and Jennifer Aniston was awkward, brittle and only slightly taller than a milk bottle.

Interestingly, only Jeffrey Archer stood out – he was full of life, funny, and very, very polite (although of course he wasn’t in prison overalls at the time...).

The point is, journalism gives you an extraordinarily privileged – and healthy – perspective on fame, and frankly, you’d be a nut if you didn’t learn from it.

From a mental health point of view, I think everyone should be forced to meet at least three of their favourite celebrities. And teenagers especially.

Because it’s such a huge relief when you realise that Julia Roberts does pick her nose; that Celine Dion does eat with her mouth open, and that Lady GaGa – without make-up and meat frocks – boasts all the beauty of Oxford’s Westgate car park.

Indeed, the girl or guy you spot on the bus coming in from Cowley is probably far more beautiful than any actor you’d spot in Heat magazine.

As for Tony Curtis, whom I met 20 years ago when he was in his 60s, I remember how shocked I was that he’d aged (for some stupid, naive reason, I just thought he’d look like...well... Tony Curtis). He however was a star for one simple reason – he smiled, laughed and spoke to everyone. And for me at least it made him bigger than any cinema screen.