“Never mind her topline, look at her shaping”
It is time to drown my intellect (such as it is), and as I sing along joyously (“da de-da da da da da”), I’m hoping I might be able to drown it in the way I most prefer: with my daughter beside me on the sofa, and the door closed firmly against male opinion.
And right now, as Strictly gets underway, it seems I might be lucky, what with my husband making shepherd’s pie in the kitchen and my son listening to a sports podcast in the conservatory.