The sparring game

Louis Theroux's charm and cheek made him one of the best interviewers in the business. Will he take it on the chin when Zoe Williams turns the tables?

- Zoe William

Louis THEROUX WANTS TO ASK ME SOMETHING: "Are you not curious about my eyebrow?" We are technically in the last minute of our conversation, after which he'll go to the east London studio next door to be photographed. In fact, we'll talk for slightly longer, as I have yet to elaborate my theory that everything that went both right and wrong for generation X was, if not caused then certainly represented by him.

"I'm not going to tell you now because you didn't ask," he continues, but he can't let it go: "Have you not followed me on Instagram?" (Actually I have, so I know it's alopecia. He's had it since January, and worries about it a lot, initially because it made his beard grow into a tiny and slightly lopsided Hitler moustache. Seriously though - you can hardly see it.) "I would never ask that," I say. "Why?" "Because it's rude." "It's not rude to ask. It's rude to expect an answer." "OK, I don't know the difference between those things," I say.

He pauses, then demonstrates: "Can I ask you a question about your hair? And feel free not to answer." "Sure." "Do you dye it?" "Yes." "There. That wasn't hard."

He thinks he's proved his own point; he's actually proved mine: only Louis Theroux can interview like Louis Theroux. He never sounds rude, or cheap, or critical, and he often sounds a bit random, so subjects - faced with the combination of his total acceptance and a naive curiosity it would be churlish not to indulge - slip into the conversation like a warm bath. And maybe the inveterate liars among those subjects might continue to lie, and maybe some people, even at their most honest, are less interesting than others, but they always show themselves.