At weekends, I work in an industry full of undercover celebrity news, X Factor scams and real behind the scenes facts. I know when the Daily Mail is telling the truth (shockingly, it actually sometimes does!) and when someone famous is covering up a bad lie (oh sweet Cheryl). As a journalist, I could easily sell 100s of stories and make 100s of pounds. But I choose not to.

I’ve found myself on various occasions nervously clutching to the ‘send’ button in an e-mail to a showbiz commissioning editor. But then something stops me actually clicking. I’d like to think it was my morals (oi you, I do have a few!) because even as I’m typing away my pitch, I put myself in that celebrity’s body and all of a sudden feel slightly sick.

Just because these people are in the public eye doesn’t make them our property. There are some (cue Kerry Katona) that ask for every little bit of bad press they get. But the occasional (one in a million) famous person just wants to be recognised for their talent.

For now, though, I’ll attempt to make money the clean way. I DO want to sleep at night, you know.