Politics

As a teenager, my first husband was an Essex Man. It ended badly – all my fault – but I still retain a fondness for the breed, who I associate with self-made can-do stoicism and optimism; the opposite of, say, Islington Man. An Essex Man is being spoken of as the one to give the ghastly ‘Sir’ Sadiq Khan a run for his money In recent decades, the county has become known as a glitzy, new-money Cheshire-on-Colne, due to the popular television show The Only Way Is Essex, a ‘scripted reality’ show in which a mutating cast of likely lads and luscious-lipped ladies make out and break up at bars

An astonishing email from Oxfam, one of Britain’s oldest and biggest humanitarian charities, dropped into my inbox this week. Dramatically titled (in blood scarlet) ‘Red Lines for Gaza’, it demanded that if I am as outraged by the ‘horrors that Israel is inflicting on Palestinians in Gaza’ as Oxfam is, and I want to do something about it, I should scrawl a red line across the palm of my hand and send the image to the charity. They will then use it to make a striking design for their campaign on the Gaza issue in the coming days. The email simply assumed that I must share Oxfam’s one sided, extreme

I’d always assumed that LinkedIn is Instagram for people with lanyards. A place for earnest self-congratulation, polite emoji applause, and lightly airbrushed career updates: ‘Humbled to be speaking at Davos’; ‘Thrilled to have joined Deloitte’; ‘Grateful to my incredible team for smashing Q4 targets.’ That sort of thing. Sanitised, self-serving and safely anodyne with an easy trade: a like for a like, a ‘repost’ for a ‘funny’. Instead of an apology, I received a torrent of replies ranging from ‘you had it coming’ to ‘stop making a fuss’ So when I posted something mildly provocative, I expected at worst a few furrowed brows and an awkward silence in the comments.