The one where Rachel tells the media that enough is enough

Jennifer Aniston has unwittingly become a projection of what we expect from women, writes Claire O’Sullivan

I never loved Friends. I liked Friends. As a teenager, if I picked up the TV remote and it flickered on, I’d probably have slumped down on the couch and given it 10 or 15 minutes. Yes, Friends obsessives out there, I admit Phoebe was hilarious at times but Chandler, Monica, and Ross were too anal and self-obsessed; too cardboard-cutout American, too preppy, needy, and uncomplicated.

Rachel? She was a spoilt cow but I was superficial: She wore nice clothes, she was kooky, not afraid to make mistakes, and she would probably be enormous fun to go on the tear with.