NEW YORK – Not since Humpty Dumpty has an egg made such a mess.

Monday night, one week and countless news cycles after he was scolded for obnoxiously complaining about an omelette order at the Manhattan restaurant Balthazar, James Corden went on his The Late Late Show With James Corden talk show to do the kind of damage control once reserved for offensive remarks or acts of adultery.

You knew it was serious because instead of telling jokes, the British comedian-actor-TV host started by twice showing shots of his elderly parents in the audience, a classic humanising gesture. Then he got down to the business of confession, adopting a grave face while expressing deep regrets about his terrible behaviour to the waitstaff.

“I made a sarcastic, rude comment,” he said, adding that he understood and respected the difficulties of being a server, while not being quite able to resist sneaking in that the breakfast order was messed up no less than three times, including via a dish that would have inflamed his wife’s allergies.

But no matter, ahem; back to the taking full responsibility.

“I didn’t shout or scream. I didn’t get up out of my seat. I didn’t call anyone names or use derogatory language. I have been walking around thinking that I hadn’t done anything wrong, right? But the truth is I have. I made a rude comment and it was wrong,” Corden stated. “It was an unnecessary comment. It was ungracious to the server.”

This is hopefully the final chapter of an absurd and inadvertently revealing melodrama. Call it James and the Giant Breach.

It began when Keith McNally, the owner of Balthazar, barred Corden from his restaurant in an Instagram post that was deliciously long on specifics (“Get us another round of drinks this second,” it said Corden demanded) and insults (McNally called Corden a “tiny cretin of a man”).

According to a manager report posted on McNally’s Instagram, Corden became enraged after his wife ordered an egg yolk omelet, only to receive egg white mixed with the yolk.

After demanding a new dish and receiving a second try mistakenly replacing salad with home fries, Corden reportedly erupted: “You can’t do your job! Maybe I should go into the kitchen and cook the omelet myself!”

This is the entitled stuff of a villain from a John Hughes movie. It’s obviously bad behaviour.

As a former busser, I understand the white-hot rage about it. And yet, what followed was a bit much.

Corden was denounced on the Internet as if he were a war criminal, his actions reported on by countless media outlets, his transgressions detailed in explainers and called out in thought pieces.

Then came the devil’s advocates. Restaurant owners defended Corden in The New York Post, saying he had been lovely to them, leaving generous tips and singing with bartenders, never once pelting a sous chef with a pastry.

This was followed by the first apology and the rescinding of the ban. Like a generous priest, McNally, whose long history of aggressive behaviour in public feuds didn’t seem to make many question how reliable a narrator of events he was, wrote a second post forgiving the star, adding: “I strongly believe in second chances.”

Ah, yes, sweet providence.

Not so fast. Extending his misery – and that of the publicity team at CBS, the network of The Late Late Show with James Corden – Corden told The New York Times on Thursday that he actually did nothing wrong, which led to another tart response from McNally before Corden reversed course into a full-throated mea culpa for the cameras.

It was all just another day on the Internet-driven media, where the demands of algorithms lead to celebrity justice meted out on a regular basis.

Yet, as with many such brouhahas, it provides clues to soft spots in the culture, to the fragilities that were already there. The backdrop is that Corden, who plans on stepping down from his show in 2023, is part of a late-night landscape that is going through a transition, if not a crisis.

Not long after he announced he would be leaving, Trevor Noah somewhat abruptly declared he was ending his run on The Daily Show. (The latest rumour is he’ll be replaced by a committee of hosts.)

Ratings for late-night talk shows have been declining for years. There is a growing sense that such invariably topical programmes are a poor fit on streaming services.

With the networks fading in relevance, there are also whispers of more dramatic shifts to lineups, including the storied NBC institutions of The Tonight Show and Late Night With Seth Meyers.

Often described as seeming to come out of nowhere (otherwise known as England), Corden presented himself as an ordinary guy, self-deprecating, quick to laugh, eager to please.

His signature bit, Carpool Karaoke, pulled off the feat of making pop superstars also seem down-to-earth and relatable, making for charming television and great promotion.

Corden is not actually ordinary at all. He is a famous actor and gifted Broadway star.

As it happens, he earned the late-night job in no small part because of his Tony-winning performance in the hit play One Man, Two Guvnors, and his latest drama could be seen as a callback to that show’s comic high point, where his down-on-his-luck character desperately tries to help an inept server.

But his talk-show persona, like that of the forever boyish Jimmy Fallon, did not rest on his comic and musical talents, but on how he exploits them to seem like a garden-variety sweetheart.

Likability has always been important in talk-show hosts but balanced by other virtues like creativity, funniness, political or even journalistic insight, the ability to connect emotionally.

Johnny Carson was far too remote to be considered relatable, and David Letterman developed a reputation for meanness that, whether earned or not, was part of his appeal to some fans.

Even Craig Ferguson, Corden’s predecessor, relied on a certain roguish charm. The more politically-minded hosts like John Oliver or Meyers would not be helped by a scandal over yelling at a maitre d’, but I doubt it would cause such a fuss.

The truth is that the rich and famous have been rude to servers forever. This is not a good thing, but it also hasn’t been big news until recently.

Now social media gives every restaurateur, nanny, production designer and eavesdropper a platform that could reach a global audience. This makes it much harder for a celebrity to control his or her image and almost impossible to maintain a pristine reputation. Being known as a nice person can be dangerous.

John Mulaney is currently touring with a stand-up show about this exact theme.

“Likability is a jail,” he says.

Of course, unlikability can be one, too. Maybe the smart move for a talk-show host is to strike a balance so that public persona matches up as closely as possible to private self.

And if you somehow can’t show respect to the people handling your food, tip exceptionally well. NYTIMES