'If I had never caused this shit, it would never have happened'
When I clap eyes on our national sinner in the Rosebank Hotel I see a man squirming under that magnifying glass. It gets hot under there.
"You look exhausted," I tell him.
"Well, have you ever been in this position?" he asks.
"Oh sure," I quip. "If you Google my name, several pornographic clips appear on YouTube."
I couldn't help it, it just slipped out.
His blush is like a furious, rising tide. When it thankfully recedes, he looks even more woebegone than I thought possible and I feel like I am giving him a saute on a griddle pan. Shame will do that to a man.
And, let's face it, he is going through a public shaming second to none. Nazi collaborators had an easier time of it in post-war France. The media juggernaut hovers over his shoulder like a prurient maiden aunt tut-tutting over his eventual declaration of the "truth".
Such as it is.
As we chat on a lurid red velvet couch, I can't help but chuckle at all the attendant decorative associations; what with the unfortunate upmarket brothel-cum-'70s-disco theme that prevails in the hotel. This is not a good tack to take with him. Self-blame is the order of his day.
"If I had never caused this shit, it would never have happened," he points out. Can't fault his logic.
I wonder how it will hold up to my next line of questioning, which is really all about our own relationship.
I mean, it can't all be about Amor, can it? I want to know how the media and Joost came to this pass.
There was a time, hell, it might even still be that time, when the description "our very own Posh and Becks" was trundled out with every reference to the "celebrity couple".
"We hate it when people call us that," he says, somewhat wistfully.
His own analysis of how they got into bed with the tabloid press is telling: "Without Amor and I really thinking about it, we started to integrate our careers. We should have thought about it better. We were naive.
"Whenever they asked us for a front cover, we obliged; we thought we were doing them a favour. I should have thought - hang on, you're not getting anything out of it."
That seems a disingenuous explanation at best.
But he is fixing his wistful blue gaze upon me from beneath his eyelashes, so I let him continue on this path of vindication for a moment more.
"We trusted the media. I would love to know more, about how it works. I would love to see the softer side."
I extract myself from his line of vision and, brutally, ask him the clincher: "Surely if you put yourself out there as you did, posing for every spread, and cover - then you are fair game?"
He winces.
"We are paying the price for it now. The thing is, you don't know what to expect. People want your picture, you lose your sense of perspective. Without knowing it, you become a certain person. Out of the blue you become famous. I can remember people saying I was arrogant. Now I know what they mean. I had a false sense of life. I am not complaining, but now that I am telling my story, in my own words, without some spin, I get railed for that too."
We segue into ethics.
"I made the wrong decision; I was scared to tell Amor that it was me in the video. It's wrong to live a lie. But what is going on now isn't right either. What happened to the ethics, on both sides?"
"I've got an example," he says. "Let's say a publication has a story about a person who is blackmailed and entrapped. Who are they going to nail - the famous guy or the blackmailer?"
He puts that out there and then continues with his self-flagellation.
"Anyway, there is no excuse for my behaviour. I have to face the facts and take the punishment; I lost my job, my relationship with my wife, my dignity and my self-respect."
I gently suggest that his tabloid life has a role to play. His is the new morality tale for a society that has lost its traditional moorings.
He was the blue-eyed boy who fell, and is now caught up in a redemption phase of sorts.
"You've got a choice in life. You've got to live your own life, not the life other people want for you - the life of a role model, or a bad boy. I'll take my shots, but I have learnt you have to remember who you are and where you come from."
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Herschel Salomon