The Spectator

Letters | 26 May 2016

Also in Spectator Letters: Facebook; Verdi; toilets; TVs; bullfighting

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I was a weird kid, and though I harboured the usual innocent girlish ambitions of being a drug fiend and having sex with pop stars, I also nursed a desire to appear on Woman’s Hour. As a shy, provincial virgin, the programme opened up a world of women’s troubles from anorexia to zuigerphobia – and

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