Gwyneth Paltrow, ever the obliging professional, has "opened up" to the Daily Mirror as part of her contractual obligation to provide publicity for her new film, Iron Man 2. It is very hard for her to be parted from her children Apple and Moses, she explains, but the nature of her work demands it. Well, it would have been fine if she had said that. But she said something else instead: "Some days you think, 'Oh my God. They're in the bath right now and I'm not there.' And I would cry in my trailer."

Dear heavens. Does she cry when it's Daddy's turn to put the children to bed, or do she and Chris Martin always do it in unison? Does she cry when she has missed a magic moment because she had to be in the front row at a friend's fashion show, or at a close family member's gig? (Though admittedly, I'd cry too if I found myself at either a Stella McCartney bash or a Coldplay concert.)

Paltrow may not need to work for money, like most people do, but it is fair enough for her to decide she does not wish to damage her career or subsume her identity because she has children. In a world in which some bosses (such as Alan Sugar) are only too willing to believe that woman-and-child equals unemployably-distracted-hormone-lady, however, Paltrow's open self- indulgence is nauseating.