We are in London, it’s great to be back. Yesterday I visited my favourite haunts; the Blink Bar at Harvey Nichols and HB Health where Botox Brenda worked her magic needle. On the way back to the hotel (Rupert has managed to get us into The Connaught, a more civilised place is hard to imagine, Leo has his own bed, dressing gown, slippers, teddy bear, London map etc) I was walking up Park Lane feeling jolly happy when I saw a familiar figure walking towards me.

It was David Cameron, the leader of the opposition conservative party. I have always rather liked Dishy Dave as I call him because he’s, well, quite dishy. He is an Old Etonian which is a good start (in my experience they are usually charming, clever and amusing) and he just looks so good compared with the Prime Minister Gordon Brown. This week Brown compared himself with my all-time hero (only downside is he’s not an Old Etonian) Heathcliff. Well, I mean, really. He is about as reminiscent of Heathcliff as a sack of old potatoes, in fact less.

Dishy Dave looked so bright, handsome and fresh faced that I smiled broadly, praying silently that the blood left by Brenda’s needle had left my forehead. He smiled back and said “hello”. Rather annoyingly when I said hello back my new Tom Ford glasses decided to do that trick of moving up and down on my face so I must have looked like a mad woman. Still at least he’ll remember me.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

There are few things that make me as angry as the situation in Zimbabwe. I read this morning that 60 or so women and children have been removed from the opposition party headquarters for “hygiene reasons”. They were hiding there for fear of beatings, arrest or worse. Meanwhile Morgan Tsvangirai has taken refuge in the Dutch embassy following the announcement that he has pulled out of the election on the grounds that it will be a non-election.

He is right. Not only will it be a non-election, it will cause huge suffering, as we have seen already. Thousands of people have been beaten and harassed. More than 200,000 have lost their homes. Food aid has been snatched and distributed to supporters of Mugabe. A run-off would have amplified these problems and ended with more deaths and beatings. Mugabe will stop at nothing to keep his grip on power, to continue to destroy what was once one of the most prosperous and happy countries in Africa.

What amazes and angers me almost as much as Mugabe (and by the way, is total dictatorship the secret to not ageing? How young does he look? Or has he had a series of clones produced that he controls with a remote?) is the fact that no one seems willing or able to speak out against him. I suppose nothing the “imperialist west” does will make any difference, although maybe cancelling the upcoming cricket tour would annoy him. But his African neighbours ought to do something, especially South Africa. Why the silence? Do they really want a crippled Zimbabwe on their doorstep? Or are they too scared of being rounded up for hygiene reasons to speak out?

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

What the hell is Robert Mugabe doing at the World Food Summit in Rome? This man belongs in jail, not at some international convention. Added to which the irony could hardly be more poignant. He has sytematically starved his people for years. So while he dines in the Via Veneto, his people die of hunger. As one journalist put it, it’s rather like inviting Pol Pot to a human rights convention.

I know a journalise who went to Zim recently. He interviewed a woman who was beaten repeatedly in front of her two children so badly that the Daily Mail judged the pictures too gory to publish. Her crime? Voting for the opposition. I cannot bear to think about the suffering going on there now before the electoral run-off at the end of the month. And yet western leaders welcome this tyrant, this dictator, this despot in Rome. Why didn’t Berlusconi (who loves attention) refuse to give him a visa? Why doesn’t someone shoot him? Mugabe that is, not Berlusconi. He at least is only starving his people of decent television.

Closer to home there is also worrying news. Today Rupert goes in to hospital to have his knee operated on. It is a simple operation, but any operation is worrying. Although possibly not as worrying as his reaction to shaving said knee in preparation for keyhole surgery.

“I can see what you girls are on,” he said, looking rather pleased with the results. I have left him in the capable hands of a friend who will take him to hospital as I whiz up to Paris for my style guru event. If only the talk were about men I could announce the new shaved knee look. As it is, I will have to come up with something else.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

I admit it, I am a fattist. Every time I see a fat person I want to throw up. I can’t stand the sight of that blubber blubbering around. If I see a fat person walking into Burger King I am tempted to make a citizen’s arrest.

Now I see that Britain is officially the fattest nation in Europe with a shocking 59% of women judged overweight or obese. This is more than half the female population. What the hell are they thinking about? Chips and deep-fried Mars Bars? Obviously not their health or how to look good in skinny jeans.

OK, so I may care more than the average person about the way people look. But It’s not just the fact that I hate the idea of someone with so little will-power or care for themselves that they let themselves get into that state. There is the deadly serious side to obesity.

Do you know that being overweight knocks NINE YEARS off a person’s life? And how much is the medical care going to cost? And who pays for that?
We don’t mind looking after smokers on the NHS, after all they fund a large part of it, but how are you going to feel when you realise that a vast amount of your hard-earned money is going on treating people for this obesity epidemic? Reinforced beds don’t come cheap. Nor does the medical care to treat cardiovascular diseases, cancer, diabetes, arthritis and a whole host of other effects of stuffing your face at every given opportunity. And before you all start writing telling me for most fat people it’s a medical condition, I sat next to two extremely experienced doctors at lunch yesterday and asked them how many people were fat due to a medical condtion. The both shook their heads.

“Hardly any at all,” said one, “the most common medical condition would be a mental disorder that leads to over-eating. Other than that it’s simply life-style. And eating too much.”

But being obese is no longer a personal lifestyle choice, it’s an issue we’re all going to have to deal with. And look at. And while I’m ranting; a friend of mine used to extremely thin, not through any eating disorder, she was just thin. People would often come up to her (even strangers in the street) and ask “do you ever eat?” How come you’re allowed to ask that of thin people but were you to ask a fat person if they ever stopped eating you would be judged incredibly rude?

Maybe it’s time we started asking them that question, it might make them stop and think before they stuff in that deep-fried Mars Bar.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

I am in the Richard Kay column in the Daily Mail today (see below for text of article). This is thrilling news on many counts. First they have made me younger than I am (always useful for an anti-ageing guru), second they call me “pouting” and finally it’s only a matter of time before Boris gets on the phone to ask when my new exclusively Old Etonian retreat is going to take place.

I have always wanted to meet Boris; I think he seems extremely amusing and now that he’s mayor of London he will be a useful contact to have. I could talk to him about my plans to introduce 24-hour opening at Harvey Nichols for example and to ban smoking in the royal boroughs of Kensington and Chelsea. Now that all these smokers intent on killing themselves can only do so outside, London air has become extremely ageing. I think it should only be permitted outside zone one. Boris can implement my plan. After the retreat, obviously.

Pouting anti-ageing authoress Helena “To Hell In High Heels” Frith-Powell says she’s planning a special Toffs Weekend at her new health spa, Renew Retreats, in the South of France.

But just who could Helena have in mind? “David Cameron looks pretty fit, but I think Boris Johnson could benefit,” she explains.

It was the Greek philosopher Heraclitus who said that ‘no man can step into the same river twice, for fresh waters are ever flowing in upon you’. I had hoped that when Carla showed up for the state visit to England that she might have brought a bit of fresh water with her.

Sadly not. One commentator observed that she looked like a mixture betweeb Jackie Kennedy and a nun. I am all for Jackie Kennedy. Style icons like her are to be adored and admired. But the fact is that our dear tutti fruity Carla is about as far removed from her as she is to a nun, and yet she is trying to be her. Heraclitus would not approve.

I can see that for her this was a safe option. Show up looking demure and like Jackie - that’s what people expect from a First Lady. They do indeed. Unless that particular First Lady has a reputation for sleeping with rock stars and conducting interviews topless (I promise you, she did, I read the article, the (male) journalist had to keep trying not to look at her tits and bury his head in his notebook).

What I was hoping from tutti fruity Carla was something with a little flair, a touch of the frivolous, the fun, the daring. Why show up looking like a frigid matron when the whole world knows you’re anything but?

Who knows, she could have created a style all her own, that future first ladies and women all over the world would have emulated.

And another thing. How long before she realises that going on tour with Mick was much more fun than state visits to drafty old castles?

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

So the news that Carla has married Sarko has of course devastated Rupert. “How could she?” he wailed down the phone to me as I stood at the supermarket check-out.

I excitedly shared the news of the wedding with the people queuing with me at Carrefour. They didn’t seem in the least bit interested. I couldn’t wait to get into the car to listen to the news. The girls demanded Amy Winehouse.

“No,” I told them. “Sarko’s got married, I need to hear all about it.”

“We hate Sarko,” said Olivia. “He’s going to make us do homework at the after-school crèche. We want to play instead.”

The news was full of some military coup in Chad. Who cares about Chad? What we really want to know is what did Carla wear?

I had to wait until I got home to read the Daily Mail and discover that she wore white.

“How ridiculous,” I huffed.

“And why shouldn’t she wear white?” said Rupert. “She hasn’t been married before.”

I suppose he has a point. But there is something rather incongruous about a man-eating former super-model turned semi-naked rock star doing the blushing bride bit.

I am not bitter. I know I sound bitter but I’m not. I never wanted to sleep with Eric Clapton or Mick Jagger or live in the Elysee Palace. But I do truly believe that Sarko has lost the plot. OK, so he’s obviously besotted, who wouldn’t be? But there are some women who are the marrying kind and some women who are not. Even though he has only known her a little over two months he should realise that Carla is not. And no matter how much white she wears I’m not convinced this marriage will last as long as Sarko’s presidential term. Which could only be a matter of weeks if Olivia and Bea get their way.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

Before I start my rant, for those of you who noticed I was missing, I am sorry. The server had to changed for reasons I am not clever enough to understand. For those of you who didn’t, where the hell were you?

Anyway it’s not just servers that are driving me mad at the moment. Everywhere I go in the house all I hear are the husky ‘I want to steal your husband’ tones of a certain Miss Carla Bruni.

My husband has got the Bruni-bug bad. Ever since the French president started stepping out with her he has spent most of his time reading about her exploits, listening to her dreary music or watching clips of her on YouTube.

He lost his trainers the other day. “Maybe Carla Bruni has taken them,” he said, “in a desperate attempt to get me to come and claim them back from her.” Yeah, right.

Deranged he may be, but I fear he is not alone. For Miss Bruni is every man’s dream and every woman’s nightmare. This is a girl who believes in free love and has the looks and guile to get it wherever she wants.

If I were the Queen I would refuse to have her anywhere near me on the upcoming state visit, married or not. Married, as we know, means nothing to the capricious Carla. Unless the Queen wants to risk losing her husband and possibly her son and/or grandson she should keep her well away from the palace.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

A teenage bride who came to Leeds for an arranged marriage has been beaten to death during a “prolonged and vicious attack” by her young husband over a three-week period, all with the collaboration of his relations who apparently took an instant dislike to her.

Sabia Rani, aged 19, from Pakistan, married Shazad Khan, aged 25 in January 2006. She suffered bruising to 90 per cent of her body, sustaining horrific injuries that would normally only be seen in victims of a car crash. Paramedics found her dead in her bathroom.

The family blamed “evil spirits, curses and black magic” for the horrendous injuries, but the truth is that Sabia’s broken ribs were caused by her husband stamping on them. He was convicted of her murder last year. The police are now prosecuting Sabia’s mother-in-law, sister-in-law and her husband for allowing the death of “a vulnerable adult” and perjury.

While I applaud the fact that the rest of the family is being prosecuted, I don’t think it is enough. If you have a dog who repeatedly attacks your children, you put him down. He is not willing or able to abide by the rules of your household so he is no longer welcome.

So it should be with people who are not willing or able to abide by the rules of our society. Personally I would put them down, but a more politically viable option would be to deport them. Unless we send a strong message to those living under these medieval beliefs and customs the “honour” killings and abuse of women will continue.

And before you start writing to me harping on about human rights, do you really believe that someone who does this kind of thing can be called human and therefore have any such rights?

In colonial India the British put an end to the ritual of Sati or Suttee, the burning of a newly-widowed woman on her husband’s funeral pyre.

The locals told Sir Charles Napier that it was their “custom” to burn widows.

“You say that it is your custom to burn widows. Very well. We also have a custom: when men burn a woman alive, we tie a rope around their necks and we hang them. Build your funeral pyre; beside it, my carpenters will build a gallows. You may follow your custom. And then we will follow ours,” he told them.

How many more young girls will die at the hands of their families before we have the courage to act against these “customs”?

(Read the Daily Mail article: ‘Family turned a blind eye’ as teenage bride was beaten to death by arranged husband)

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008

As Hillary Clinton gets bitter in a televised TV debate with Barack Obama, the singer Amy Winehouse is frolicking on a beach in the Caribbean with her ex-boyfriend. Who do you think does more to further the cause of women?

Most would probably say Hillary. She was (and some may say still is) likely to become the first ever female president of the US. She strides around making important speeches and leaves men quaking in her wake. Amy, on the other hand, is a drug addict lunatic with a husband in jail and more tattoos than David Beckham.

My view is that women like Hillary do more damage to women’s causes than men do. She has become worse than a man. She is more aggressive, more strident and totally charmless. Just because you’re in a position of power, there’s no need to give up being a warm and attractive (even sexy) person. Her husband certainly didn’t. Here in France we saw a similar change (although not nearly as bad) in Segolene Royal. In the end Sarko outpolled her among women, as Obama has just done to Hillary in the US.

Amy may be flawed and faithless. But she is pure woman. She is talented and successful and behaving badly. In her song You Know I’m No Good she says “Upstairs in bed with my ex boy, he’s in a place but I can’t get joy”. This may all have changed now.

But the point is that women are not fooled by a woman trying to be a man. That’s not what we want when we talk about the first female president. We want a first WOMAN president, not some pastiche of a man whom we hate on sight. If Hillary were a touch more like Amy (or even Bill) we would like her a lot more, chinks and all.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008