A large source of guilt, manifesting as a Perpetual Slightly Creepy Feeling is the on-tap access to the Leveson Enquiry; thanks to which, theweemo now knows more news scandalisation than she ever did before, because she never read the tabloids.
Judging by its opening gambit, Scousewives clings safely to the template laid down by its southern cousins in Essex and Chelsea, opening with a conformist series of oddly stunted conversational scenes resembling the awkward preliminary stages of a porn film, and concluding with some party or function to usher in the histrionics.
Like it or loathe it, there's one trend this autumn that is getting increasingly hard to avoid. When I think of it, I think of tan. I think of false eyelashes, of white stilettos, and of round-the-clock maintenance. It is not fashionable, edgy or remotely high-brow, but somehow it is a look that is taking over our sartorial lives.