Let me describe to you my one and only only encounter with Bono, an influential figurehead who, says Carne Ross of Independent Diplomat, is “almost as important as governments” and (according to surveys!) “already more trusted”.

It was on 21 December 1997, in Mostar.

Mostar was one of the cities most wrecked by the Bosnian conflict. Several streets looked like moonscapes, such was the volume of gunfire between at different points Bosniacs/Muslims, Serbs and Croats alike which had literally shot the buildings to rubble.

Into this maelstrom had come War Child, a new charity set up in response to the disaster unfolding across former Yugoslavia which had attracted some big-name celebrity supporters, not least from the world of Rock.

So an idea emerged to use music to bring the people of Bosnia together. And where better than Mostar, a city so ruined and divided? A high-tech new music studio there could become a leading European recording facility, create jobs and buzz and so on.

Thus a major and ultimately successful push was launched to open this new Music Centre in Mostar, named after opera superstar Luciano Pavarotti.

But where? If it was on the Bosniac/Muslim side of the river would the Croats/Serbs ever visit it? If it was on the Croat side of the river, would the Bosniacs/Serbs ever visit it? Would they all ever agree to run the airport nicely to let much international air traffic in?

Eventually it was agreed to build it on the Bosniac side. And a fine new facility it was.

So just before Christmas 1997 a gala opening was planned, with Pavarotti, Bono and others present. But it was hard work agreeing how it all might work, not least with Pavarotti’s tough egg second wife Nicoletta whom I met when she came to Mostar personally to negotiate the matter.

How to get these luminaries to Mostar speedily and safely at that time of year? Only with military support. I myself helped persuade NATO forces to lay on an expensive helicopter to support the cause.

Thus the Great Day came. Bosnia’s then Prime Minister Haris Silajdzic and a sizeable delegation of top dignitaries drove down to Mostar. The Crawfs en masse went too.

Admittedly the whole event was marred by a stunning all-day downpour. But worse, the celebs could not be persuaded to get their delicate celeb bottoms into the military helicopter.

So we all sat in a crowded stuffy hall and waited. And waited. And waited. Silajdzic was furious.

Finally, the best part of three hours late, they arrived!

In the tight formation of a Wedge of Celebs, surrounded by heaving media elbowing everyone out of the way. The ceremony itself was a brief farce. Pavarotti did not sing a note. Nor did Bono. If either of them even said a word it was at best perfunctory. They showed no interest in watching the performances of the Bosnian children who had rehearsed for weeks.

Basically, their sheer self-indulgent discourtesy after keeping so many people waiting for so long was quite remarkable.

After a few speeches by others they were off in their media scrum, back to the helicopter. Mission accomplished.

Here is a glowing description of this event from prominent Bosniac spokesman Ambassador Muhamed Sacirbery (sic), as given on Pavarotti’s death. Sacirbey’s own plummet from celeb-style status soon thereafter was suitably steep.

The Pavarotti Centre happily survived this indignity and has done what it can do in Mostar, still a grim example of a divided city. See eg this sympathetic account, which mentions that (as everyone in the know predicted at the time) the Centre would struggle to pay for itself as few stars would want to trek on down to Mostar to make recordings

Moral of the story?

You may have little faith in elected politicians. Have even less in unelected self-important celebs. But anyway, this is quite good: