Roger Ebert is my hero.

My hero is fallible.

He is ornery, pretentious, often self-righteous, often wrong.

He is also a horny little fucker, and sometimes his reviews turn right-lusty as he waxes lyrical about Rosario Dawson's lips, Angelina Jolies' boobs, or Aishwaria Rai (sic)'s everything.

But I love his relentless intelligence. The fact that he constantly has interesting things to say. The fact that when you read his reviews, you feel a bit like you're down the pub having an argument with that friend of yours who always drives you a little bit crazy, but, you have to concede, they're damn smart and right-well-educated about what they're talking about.

He's been very sick over the last year and as such I've come to realise how much joy his reviews bring into my life. I urge you to check out his website: www.rogerebert.com. His stupid wisdom is manifest.

(Also: be fore-warned: he gives bad reviews to both Fight Club and Blue Velvet, which many people cite as signs of his idiocy, so if that's the sort of thing to put you off, then . . . well, read the reviews anyway. They're interesting, at least, even if they are erroneous. God bless Roger)