She will think about each and every damn thing she puts in her mouth before she eats it, because – consider this – because someone is going to measure her, and look at her proportions, and judge whether she is the right shape or not. (She is never the right shape. If she is 36-26-36, that’s all well and good, but if everyone is 36-26-36, there is going to be a part of her wondering if it would be better if she was 36.5-25.5-36.5 or 35-24-35.) She probably never gets filthy drunk. Do you know how many calories there are in a sweet martini and lemonade, John? You can bet a beauty queen does, I bet she never eats candyfloss at the beach and licks the sticky residue off her fingers. I bet she doesn’t open the door without having put all of her makeup on. There’s probably a mirror in the hallway, so she can check that her hair is glossy enough before she goes anywhere.

There’s a good chance that your beauty queen practises walking, John. If you are any shade of a decent man you must be able to see that that is not cool.

She probably goes for days and days without anyone asking her what she thinks about the Vietnam War. If they ever have. But she probably has a view. Because she is more than her looks, and she deserves to be treated as such. Just like we – the feminists, the protesters, the ones who don’t get leered at in the street because we reject the game of prettiness – deserve to be credited with more than jealousy for our actions at Miss World.

So, why not stick up for us, John? Why not admit – to yourself, to your colleagues, to the women in your life – that we had a point, and we made it, and we did it because the world needs to change? And don’t expect me to thank you for it. Because being grateful to men is a whole different area of wrongness that we need to talk about, some other time.

Leonie

19 February 2018

19 February 2018

In Dapchi, Nigeria, 110 schoolgirls are kidnapped by the extremist group Boko Haram. On 25 March, the BBC will report that most were released, after having been warned not to return to school. Five did not survive.

HRH Queen Elizabeth II attends London Fashion Week.

Model Eunice Olumide tells a BBC reporter, ‘We’re not able to represent reality in the industry . . . There’s no minimum wage for models, no requirement to make clothes in different sizes.’

Nine weeks and three days to exhibition opening

‘Cheer up, love,’ says the man at the ticket barrier.