Tonight:
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It's all too weird. My whole lifetime, elections have been won and lost against a drab grey backdrop of maleness. The men talk. The men shout. The men promise a golden future, then deliver a grey one in line with their hair, their suits and their shtick. Politics has always been grey.
But this time, for some inexplicable reason, politics has woken up to the fact that 50 per cent — or possibly more, if you consider the number of women currently struggling to find a boyfriend — of the voting British public is female. This time, the future's pink: so pink that at times it induces nausea.
Talk about being careful what you wish for. Here come the girls, all right, their eyes shimmering pools of devotion and their hands lovingly entwined in their husbands'. Were there ever two more perfect marriages than these?
And were there ever two more stylish women? For years, fashion was treated like the special needs subject on every national newspaper: a dumb interest for dumb people, tolerated by editors because of the sexy photo opportunities it trailed in its wake.
So it is gratifying that there now seems to be a genuine interest in what Sarah Brown and Samantha Cameron are wearing, and an acceptance that, like their education or their career choices, their clothes are a valid part of who they are and what they stand for.
Rising beautifully to the challenge, Sam 'n' Sarah's outfits thus far have been choreographed to the nth degree: a high street trouser here (cropped, of course), a leftfield British designer there (not too expensive, natch) and an ethically sourced T-shirt for good measure.
Even my staunchest Labour friends love SamCam, while my devout Tory ones have nothing but admiration for the faultless PR skills of Sarah Brown.
But can this new-found interest in their clothes, their webcasts and their tweets really be because of Mumsnet/Michelle Obama/Grazia/Sex and the City/whichever other female-friendly juggernaut the political commentators fancy invoking that day? Or is it because the party leaders are each so fundamentally lacking in something that they require their wives to complete them?
This is a worrying thought, and yet with each passing day, Sarah Brown and Samantha Cameron seem less like mere decoration than the very lungs of the machine.
I'm as interested in their skirt choices as the next person, yet I can't help worrying that, at times, their style is a smokescreen that obfuscates their husbands' lack of substance.
Is it just me, or does anyone else wish Sam 'n' Sarah were up for election instead? Laugh if you like, but really, how much worse could it be? Behind every man is a great woman. Put her beside you, and she can be even greater.
Divorce: It's the way you tell it
Good god: they're dropping like flies. Kate and Sam, Jim and Jenny, Sandra and that biker dude, and now the golden couple of British comedy, Dawn and Lenny. Who will be next, and is anyone offering a sweepstake? My bet's on Grant Bovey and Anthea Turner, though maybe that's too obvious.
These days, divorce announcements tend to be executed in one of two ways: via Twitter, or via Schillings, rabid lawyers-to-the-stars. You can probably learn everything you need to know about a couple by their chosen methodology. For Jim Carrey and Jenny McCarthy, a casual tweet sufficed: “Jenny and Jim have just ended their 5 yr relationship. I'm grateful 4 the many blessings we've shared and I wish her the very best. S'okay!?”
For Lenny Henry and Dawn French, nothing less than a two-page legal notice from Schillings would do: far longer than the brief statement issued by the same lawyers on behalf of Kate Winslet and Sam Mendes. Is there any correlation between the length of your statement and the skeletons in your cupboard, I wonder? Let's hope not, for Dawn's sake.
Messing up MasterChef
In the Seventies, there was a kids TV programme called Why Don't You?, whose theme tune contained the memorable line: “Why don't you just switch off your television set and go and do something less boring instead?” I was reminded of this wise entreaty as I lay on the sofa last night, flicking idly and with ever increasing despair between TV channels.
On BBC2, Sophie Dahl was pretending to eat her own flapjack. On Channel 4, Heston Blumenthal was watching Z-list celebrities lick his edible wallpaper. And on BBC1, MasterChef was groaning to a less-than-exciting conclusion.
I used to enjoy MasterChef but I'm not sure what was gained this year by sending the finalists to India to cook for royalty: it became less about the food and more about the personalities. MasterChef is much loved because it is one of the few reality TV shows that doesn't aspire to be like Big Brother. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.
Scotland rubs salt into its own wounds
Every cloud has a silver lining, and for those Scots still devastated by their country's failure to qualify for this year's World Cup, here comes that lining, in all its haggis-flavoured glory.
You thought your summer would be devoid of sporting excitement? Wrong! Walker's crisps has devised a world cup of its own: a Flavour Cup, where “15 flavours will go bag-to-bag to be crowned the world's best crisp flavour”.
Granted, the Scottish flavour — Haggis — sounded unpromising when compared to Spanish Chicken Paella or South African Sweet Chutney, but I'd hoped it would at least taste less heinous than the Australian entry, Kangaroo. Alas, no. Having sampled all 15 varieties (I'm pregnant: gimme a break) I can safely say the new haggis flavour will bring as much glory to Scotland as its football team.
Reader views (2)
It shouldn't come as a surprise that someone who has had a career based on writing about frocks should be so inept when attempting to discuss politics, but "Sarah and Sam give their grey men substance" is dismal even by Ms Craik's standards. The article may be meant for those women who would buy pretty much anything, so long as it is pink, but to even suggest that whatever Mrs Cameron and Mrs Brown are wearing is more important than what their respective husbands are saying beggars belief.
- Crawford, Hockley, UK, 09/04/2010 09:46
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I know its only fashion but surely the winner is Miriam Gonzalez Durantez...in that she retains here own name and job rather that just being a subject of gossip over what she's wearing!!!
We don't have presidents, we have polticians and prime ministers - individuals who we pay to do a job. If the spouse was a man would we be getting this sort of 'comment'??
- Dave, London SE11, 08/04/2010 22:50
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