Kristian MichailI am backstage at a Louis Theroux live event. I bypass security with a sleight of hand and sneak my way into his dressing room. I sit down as If I own the joint. He walks in with a straight face. His energy is dense. He looks serious, but maybe this is what a game face looks like. He’s not disturbed to see me, but more engrossed with the task at hand of speaking to an audience of thousands. He sits down in his make-up chair and stares into the mirror. I feel called to comfort him. “You are a great documentarian. The only competition is yourself.” He looks at me with a neutral gaze. Neither impressed nor moved. Criticism and praise are the same thing to him. He seems unfazed by both of these infantile distractions. He grabs his work. Straightens his paper. Rises and exits the room. He doesn’t look back. I didn’t even have time to criticise him. End of dream.