I’VE never been a member of any political party and therefore won’t be eligible to vote in the Labour Leadership election.

But, if I was, I think I’d feel a bit insulted by this week’s letter where 150 so-called ‘prominent women’ have thrown their support behind Yvette Cooper.

They give a lot of reasons for doing so: they reckon Yvette is the candidate who has been ‘fighting for women’s equality all her life,’ and they want to see ‘work fit round families,’ not the other way round. They also want a world where ‘women can't be harassed outside abortion clinics.’ All good. But the main reason they seem to want Yvette is because she’s a woman. They want to see the ‘glass ceiling’ smashed.

Really?

Among their number is Fiona Millar, the partner of former Labour attack dog Alastair Campbell. How much glass-ceiling smashing did she encourage her old man to indulge in when Labour actually had the power to do it, I wonder?

But even that’s not the point. Yvette may be a woman. But that doesn’t mean women will or even should support her. Women – whether they realise it or not – sub-consciously look at potential party and political leaders a bit like they look at potential partners. Will this person be strong? Could they defend me and the kids if they had to? Can they put food on the table? Can I believe a word they say?

If the person standing for office is a woman I believe they subconsciously ask the same questions, which is why women voted for Maggie Thatcher in their droves. They saw her as strong, resolute and no-nonsense, despite the havoc she wreaked in so many communities.

As a mum, a wife and citizen of the UK I look at Yvette Cooper and see a woman who seems to have agreed with everything her party did and said in the past five or so years and who, I believe, is just saying what she says now in order to get into power.

I’ve never heard anything from her which makes me feel confident she truly understands the problems of people like me, or, indeed, people who are far less fortunate than I am.

I wouldn’t vote for Yvette Cooper because she was a woman, just like I wouldn’t vote for anyone because they were a bloke and I’m amazed that people still reckon this kind of thing cuts any ice with the voters.

The idea that just because of their gender someone will do a better job of ordering our affairs is outdated nonsense.

It’s also the way that madness lies.

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RADIO Solent says it was only after ‘serious consideration’ it decided to let DJ Alex Dyke back on air after he apologised for his vicious remarks about mums breastfeeding in public.

Among other things, Dyke complained about ‘librarian-type, moustached women’ and claimed breastfeeding wasn’t ‘natural’.

Totally glad Solent are getting a handle on the 21st century thing, here. But if Dyke had been so vituperative about black or Asian folk, would it have turned out so well for him?

Would it hell. He was being ‘controversial’ about women and he’s apologised – even though there’s no indication as far as I can make out he’s actually changed his beliefs – so that’s OK, then, isn’t it?

Sexism, eh? It’s the prejudice that ALWAYS speaks its name.

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CINDERELLA falls out of her pumpkin coach while paparazzi photograph her demise. An orca whale springs out of a toilet and jumps through a hoop. And a Jeffrey Archer Memorial Fire Pit where, every day, they ritually burn one of the perjurer’s works. Just three of the installations at Banksy’s ‘Dismaland Bemusement Park’ which has sprung up in Weston-super-Mare. Never mind Jeremy Corbyn; if Banksy stood for election he’d certainly get my vote.

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JAMIE Oliver claims that every day he looks in the mirror and asks: “Am I blagging it? Am I good enough, am I clever enough?” If Jamie didn’t spend so much time self-analysing he’d know that there isn’t a living soul - apart from Boris Johnson and Donald Trump - who doesn’t do the very same thing every day. Jamie’s reported as saying he’s changed his own life to spend more time with the family. If that doesn’t bring him down to earth in the proper way, nothing will.

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THE PEOPLE’S Cilla went out like a Princess; balloons, banners declaring ‘You’ll be missed, chuck,’ with tears, roses and applause. Cilla rarely put a foot wrong in life and even in death it was all spot on – her funeral was showbiz, religious and open to all who wanted to come and pay their respects. They turned up for her because of how she made them feel. And if there are still people who don’t understand, THAT was her special magic.