‘I fully believe that women have a right to gather together without men shoving their way in. Just don’t invite me,’ writes Julie Burchill , slick with sun oil and aromatic with atomisation, as these beautiful, confused children of playground porn and lockdown attempt yet again to find the soft, raw soul beneath the hard, shiny carapace.
!” is another – but, on average, the friendships appear to last a lot longer than the love. Female bombshells – the new entrants who come along to shake things up once the pairs have bonded – will at first be regarded with hostility by the coupled-up girls, but the turning point will come with a quick chat on the terrace when the bombshell will reveal that she is “a girl’s girl”.
Men don’t give each other mindless pep talks; over the past two decades too many broads have strode around announcing that they are “strong women”, automatically winning a round of applause and shouts of “You go, girl!” from their friends. Women, more often than not, do “wellness” and “pampering” and “spa day” stuff, things which aren’t remotely relaxing but are all about preening, which is just another sort of work.