It’s no wonder young women don’t identify with feminism when it’s dressed in this kind of unattractive, clumsy costume.
Forcing equality, kicking and screaming, into the same ballpark as date rape, is the intellectual equivalent of making me wear one of those meringue wedding dresses for a joke.
Shocking at first. Screamingly funny for the next ten seconds, until everyone realises I’m not laughing. Then, downright uncomfortable for the remainder of the evening, until everyone with a modicum of empathy leaves, feeling truly ashamed of themselves.
It wasn’t so much the subject matter that provoked floods of angry comments, emails and tweets to the Vagenda offices, the Guardian and the social networks, but the springboard she launched her story with – a British musician who had just lost his home, creative output and pet dog in a house fire.
The government’s latest skirmish in the battle to rid our Sceptred Isle of lung cancer is a TV ad featuring a cigarette that develops tumours as it is smoked. You might have been lucky enough to see it over the holiday, moments after finishing a large celebratory meal.