Browsing through the details of Naomi Campbell's spectacular, copper-kicking meltdown on board a British Airways plane, it's hard to say which bit was the most entertaining.

While it is amusing to imagine a £30,000-a-day supermodel wedging herself between the seats, spitting and screeching “I am going to f*** you” in the style of a demented bag lady, I think I prefer the bit when she is supposed to have bellowed to a police officer: “You can't touch me, my cousin's Scotland Yard.” Naomi, love, we all say stuff in the heat of the moment but (New) Scotland Yard is a building, not one of your relatives. Have a lie down, eh?

But perhaps the most illuminating part of the case, heard at Uxbridge Magistrates Court, was this. As the police arrived to escort her from the plane at Heathrow's Terminal 5, she bellowed into her mobile phone, presumably to a lackey, “Make sure the press know.”

Would this be the same press that Naomi once sued for “invading her privacy”? Yes, in 2002 Naomi took the Daily Mirror to court over a report revealing that she had attended a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. “I'm... a human being who has another life that I like to live away from the media,” she said at the time.

Righto. So why would your first thought in an embarrassing situation where the police are radioing through for leg restraints be to alert the paparazzi?

But this is one of the cheering things about life. Celebrities can spend a fortune on image and PR spin and yet in one brief, unguarded moment they tell us all we need to know.

It can be the smallest incident. Recently Gary “Mr Nice Guy” Lineker was at the PGA golf championship at Wentworth. As Lineker entered a roped-off area to briefly sign autographs, a ten-year-old boy was not quick enough to proffer his pen and the former England football captain ignored him. When the boy's mother pleaded with Lineker to return he snapped: “Well, he should have been ready”. Gary, mate - you're the middle-aged presenter of Match of the Day and the face of Walker's crisps, not the American President. Hugh Cornwell, the former Stranglers frontman, recently stormed off stage because fans took pictures of him at a gig in Motherwell. Ooh, very rock'n'roll. Russell Crowe could win ten Oscars and single-handedly end world poverty but the thing for which he'll always be remembered is throwing a telephone at a concierge in a Manhattan hotel.

I do understand Naomi Campbell's logic. She is a diva, and divas need an audience. Without it their power is void, like Samson with a crew cut. One of the most perceptive things that Warren Beatty has ever said was to Madonna as she was being filmed for her fly-on-the-wall documentary In Bed With Madonna. Asked by her throat doctor whether she wanted to be examined off-camera Beatty said, cuttingly: “She doesn't want to be seen off camera, much less talk. What would you say if it's off camera? What point is there in existing?”

This summarises the problem with a 24/7 celebrity culture. Many celebrities - especi- ally the more minor, reality TV fodder - live so much on camera that it must feel like they are in a monochrome half-life when those cameras switch off. Their next appearance - flattering or not - in the next issue of Closer/Heat/Grazia magazine is the key to their currency. Without the media attention that many claim to despise they wilt like neglected Begonias. This is why journalists kick the wall in frustration (we are divas, too) when they see certain celebrities on TV bleating about being snapped during a “private” meal when they know perfectly well that they tipped off a photographer, telling him or her exactly at which restaurant they would be dining.

But it is what famous people do off-camera and before an audience of nobody by which we really get the measure of them. The BBC has been criticised recently for paying stars such as Graham Norton whopping salaries (the Daily Mail calculated that Norton earned £1,012 per minute). To be honest they could pay the man with a lorry full of golden Phoenix eggs and I wouldn't have a word said against him. This is because, many years ago, a tabloid newspaper decided to test the generosity of 30 celebrities by sending them a letter from a fictitious struggling actress begging for financial help so that she could continue with her drama studies. Almost by return of post Norton sent a cheque for £500 with a note saying “Good luck with it all”. He was the only one of the 30 stars to offer money. It was a private gesture which as far as he knew would not become public and thus was utterly genuine. This is what I will always remember about Norton, even if he were to end up being discovered by News of the World in an S&M dungeon being spanked with a rubber hose.

Decades ago it was easier for divas such as Bette Davis to get away with brattish behaviour because there was little access to them and their air of mystery prevailed. Not so today. Where once it suggested high glamour, now it smacks of “notice me” desperation. Celebrities may think that they are consolidating their power and “legend” status by their prima donna demands (Mariah Carey is said to have an assistant to hold her glass for her while she drinks; Diana Ross instructed her entire entourage to address her as “Miss Ross”) but it effectively disempowers them. The wonderful talent that made them famous in the first place becomes secondary, and the divadom ends up defining them.

It's probably too late now for Naomi to ensure that she is remembered for her beauty and not her filthy temper. But other celebrities should watch and learn. It is how famous people treat the “little” people around them that is the legacy which really endures.

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