I have a terrible vice – gossip. While I spend most of my time reading up on world politics and security news, I cannot deny that I am an absolute sucker for gossip in all its guises, to the point that I bought a French magazine purely to clue up on Sarkozy’s scandalous love affair with the beguiling Carla Bruni.

As a mini-connoisseur then, it was wonderfully refreshing to read the latest piece on Johnny Depp.

The news has been abound with tales of Britney’s melt-down, Paris’ spoiled antics, and general debauchery and caddish manoeuvres, so Depp’s bequest of £1 million to the Great Ormond Street Hospital that saved his daughter’s life, is deliciously heart-warming.

Eight-year-old Lily-Rose spent nine days at the hospital last year after she developed kidney failure while staying in a rented mansion in Richmond, Surrey, with her mother, Vanessa Paradis, and her father.

But the donation is not all; on November 29 last year, unknown to the public, Depp spent four hours at the hospital telling bedtime stories to patients dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow after having his Pirates Of The Caribbean costume flown over from Los Angeles.

The mere thought of what joy that must have brought to the little mites is amazing, and capped off by the recent invitation of five doctors and nurses from the hospital to the premiere and after-party of his recent movie, Sweeney Todd.

In a world where celebrities are more famed for their crises and addictions, it is wonderful to see humble gratitude still pervades.