Johnny depp

The case of Johnny Depp vs the Sun, heard over recent weeks at the High Court in London, certainly gives fresh life to the old warnings about dirty linen and its public laundering. Whatever the results, I would be surprised if it didn’t provoke others to think again about the wisdom of reverting to the law. The influencers formerly known as the Sussexes, for instance, must be wondering whether their forthcoming legal case will result in them solely being showered with praise. Of course one has sympathy for famous people who feel that they have been badly portrayed. It is unpleasant to read nasty things about yourself in the newspapers. Especially if you have spent years reading largely pleasant things, carefully placed there by yourself or your PR team.

Gstaad Are any of you tired of reading about Ghislaine Maxwell and her sleazy life? Bored by old news repeated ad nauseam by people who hadn’t — and still don’t have — a clue? Well, your intrepid High life correspondent does have a clue, so here goes. But before I go on about la Maxwell, a few thoughts about the drama taking place in Court No. 13 of the Royal Courts of Justice on the Strand, where I had the leading role in a 1986 drama — also starring Charles Moore and some lesser characters — that almost broke the poor little Greek boy and also impoverished our great ex-proprietor Algy Cluff.

We need career detectives Sir: Your lead article (Trial and error, 29 February) rightly condemns Tom Watson for pressurising police into investigating the spurious allegations of Carl Beech. What should urgently be abandoned is the fast-tracking of police officers into senior positions, and the promotion of uniformed inspectors into detective ranks without them having the necessary experience and training to be effective investigators. It was well known in junior police circles that Operation Midland was a non-runner virtually from the start, but pressure from on high demanded that the investigation continued.

When it was first reported that Johnny Depp had been hit and pelted with crockery by his slight, blonde then wife, Amber Heard, I’m afraid my first reaction was disdain. Johnny and Amber recorded their rows on their mobile phones (as you do) and a ‘reliable source’ leaked the recording: ‘I was hitting you, it was not punching you,’ Amber says to Johnny. ‘Babe, you’re not punched.’ Then, exasperated: ‘You are such a baby. Grow the fuck up Johnny… I did not hurt you, I did not punch you, I was hitting you.’ At first my sympathies were with Amber. C’mon Johnny, c’mon Captain Jack Sparrow, can’t a lady throw a plate or two? Surely a slap, under provocative circumstances, is OK?