Why did no one believe Johnny Depp?

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? The TV of my youth was full of ladies with shoulder pads slapping men. Barely a week went by on Dynasty without Joan Collins, as Alexis Carrington, clipping some cowering chap. Very satisfying it was too.

It’s worse for a man to hit a woman than the other way around. You might think you disagree — most millennials are bound to disagree — but think of Hollywood, that mirror of all our souls. Think of the hundreds of jolly romcoms in which the girl gets to swat the guy — he’s come on too strong maybe, or there’s a misunderstanding. No big deal. Now just imagine a romcom in which the male protagonist loses his rag and smacks his love interest.

A week after the recording was leaked, another window opened up into the Heard/Depp love nest; another demented recording found its way to the Mail, and after this one, the affair can be seen in a very different light. My whole gung-ho approach to women slapping men looks different and I’m having to rethink my prejudices, which is uncomfortable.