My crime was taking a photo of myself with Katie Hopkins, and my so-called liberal mates went nuts. Because, apparently, now even pantomime villains can be hate figures. What next? A take-down of the child-rearing techniques of Captain Hook?
The picture was taken at a panel debate I’d organised, discussing the pros and cons of career-blogging. Katie, naturally, argued that bloggers were feckless, self-obsessed morons. And what an excellent job she did! Her views spurred the other side on. Still, how this photo came to be didn’t matter to my “broad-minded” friends.
Angry texts flooded in, the angriest from a mate who’s a vegetarian lesbian artist with a baby she had by IVF, who has known me since I was 14. In that time, as consistently as I’ve supported her struggle to be accepted by her conservative parents, she’s taken issue with me: where I’ve worked, whom I’ve dated, where I shop. Now, whom I fraternise with.
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