The American actor John Krasinski tells a bonkers story of a meeting with a member of the public. He's in a bar with a friend when a girl approaches. "Are you in The Office?" she asks.

He confirms, yes, he is. She tells him she doesn't watch the TV programme so she doesn't care. But, she adds, her friend Sarah loves it.

Krasinski turns to the friend, Sarah, who is delighted to meet him, and they chat. He opens his mouth to say something to Sarah and, before he knows what's what, the first girl shoves her fingers into his mouth and all the way back, to his throat. 

Kraskinski looks at her, gagging, and she starts a sentence, "Oh, I'm sorry, I just..." then trails off midway through and simply... walks away.

I've spent more time than I perhaps should have, considering this scene. One wonders what one might do when faced with two unexpected fingers confronting one's tonsils. Bite down? Kick? 

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If you're famous I guess you may just have to take it on the chin. Or, in the region of the chin. 

The tableau seems a rather neat analogy for the reality of celebrity or fame: you might merely be minding your business, enjoying a drink or the company of a friend, yet strangers feel emboldened to enter your personal space, untrammelled by social mores or any feeling of reciprocal humanity. 

There are some celebrities who seem to understand the devilish deal they make in exchange for success and, whether long spoon for supping or for prodding fingers, they open their mouths ever wider. Others will give their talents for public consumption but not much more. 

Lewis Capaldi, I think, might get a kick out of a belligerent non-fan's fingers in his throat. The Scots singer would, you get the impression, thrive on the anecdote. 

As well as being an extremely talented singer-songwriter, the 26-year-old is a natural comedian. He has a touch of the Billy Connolly about him - an ear for a rhyming couplet and an eye for the absurd. 

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Capaldi also, like so many with a talent for making others laugh, struggled with poor mental health and this week announced he was cancelling several forthcoming tour dates in order to rest, recuperate and just be "Lewis from Glasgow" until he feels well enough for his Glastonbury performance at the end of the month.

You can make a joke about Capaldi not taking the Ange Postecoglou news well and not feel bad about yourself in the morning. He'd be comfortable with a bit of a ribbing, you feel.  

Capaldi speaks freely of his mental health struggles. It would be marvellous not to describe this as inspirational or as an example of a successful role model and only see it as a normal discussion of a common health complaint but, frustratingly, we're not there yet.

This is important, men being able to be frank about their mental health. Too many men are lost to a stoicism developed in a system of outdated notions of masculinity. 

Discussion of mental health is becoming less stigmatised, particularly for younger men of Capaldi's Gen Z generation. The good-humoured and understanding responses to Lewis Capaldi's announcement might lead one to think we have entered a more enlightened age.

But then we come to a similar announcement from politician Kevin Stewart. The SNP MSP has resigned from his post as transport minister after enduring "bouts of poor mental health".

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He feels he can continue as an MSP but cannot satisfactorily handle the strictures of a ministerial post. 

Neither of these can have been easy decisions to make, that terrible pressure of knowing you're letting people down, whether colleagues and constituents or fans who have booked hotel rooms for your gig. 

First Minister Humza Yousaf pointed out the pressures of being a minister. Who would want it? Civil servants contacting you at every hour, journalists' relentless scrutiny, negative publicity, endless pressures.  

The response to Stewart has been less sympathetic than to Capaldi. People have a visceral dislike of politicians; people are angry about the ferries and the state of the roads. 

Surely, though, there is space apart from the anger to meet Stewart on a human level and have sympathy for his ill health? We can't de-stigmatise mental health problems only for the people we like. 

Capaldi and Stewart are not alone. According to the Health and Safety Executive, depression and anxiety accounted for the majority of days lost in Britain due to work-related ill health in 2021/22 - 17 million days lost. This figure is higher than in the years pre-pandemic too. 

The nation's productivity and ability to work are badly affected by mental health issues. Suggesting Stewart is lazy or looking for an escape hatch to cover his failings sends a dreadful message to people who are afraid to prioritise their own wellbeing over work. Which is a far too common, yet ridiculous, position to take. 

Both men are in influential positions and their disclosures can serve to push an important message on two of life's biggest stages, politics and music.

Few of us do the hours or face the scrutiny of a cabinet minister; few of us know the relentless pressure of global fame.

But people are still badly affected by mental health issues caused by stress, pressure and over-work. It's why the ideas of four-day weeks, quiet quitting and mandatory switch-off times for work emails resurface so persistently and frequently. Something has to give, but no one's quite sure what. 

The openness of Capaldi and Stewart about their health raise all these issues: mental health stigma generally; the barriers faced by men in talking about their problems; the negative effects of the breakdown in work/life boundaries. 

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It also raises questions of courage. One framing is that any kind of stepping back or admission of weakness is brave, that talking about mental health problems requires courage. If we take one thing from the example of the pop star and politician, it should be the idea that frankness around mental health is not brave but boring.

Mental health problems are so commonplace it's ludicrous that stigma still exists. If only we could replace that stigma with support and step away from invasive, intrusive attitudes that everyone must be available at all times and to require privacy or rest is weakness. 

Caring for oneself is an act of political warfare, after all.