Farewell, Anna Wintour – Queen of editors with a nuclear-force power

Farewell, Anna Wintour: sphinx-faced, super-enduring doyenne of global fashion. The news that the editor-in-chief of US Vogue has stepped down after 37 years marks the end of an era, but I don’t mean her reign over couture and catwalk.

What her bow marks is the golden age of magazines, when editors were celebrated as celebs in their own right and whose names were synonymous with their product. Mark Boxer at Tatler, Graydon Carter’s Vanity Fair, Nick Logan at The Face, Bill Buford heading Granta, Alan Coren at Punch and Tina Brown presiding over Tatler, Vanity Fair, The New Yorker and the Daily Beast. But “Nuclear Wintour” outsaw all of them, while the only famed editor still at his desk and outdoing Wintour by two years and still counting is my first boss, Ian Hislop, Private Eye’s Lord Gnome.

Magazines shaped my life after my publican parents turned their saloon bar into a comfy sitting room with sofas, log fires and piles of glossies. As my mother put it, “There’s Country Life for the life you want, Hello! to gawp at other people’s lives and Private Eye for the truth behind the lives.” Each copy was grey from being thumbed by riveted customers. By 1991, when the cousin of one of our regulars sent me off for an interview with Hislop at the Eye’s Soho offices, I was quivering with nerves at the prospect of meeting a demi-god. But even then, I didn’t quite grasp how infinitesimally lucky I was to enter magazine journalism at a time of editorial giants, wide readerships, big ad revenue and significant sway.

It was an age when editors decided who was a star in the making – or fading. Front covers rather than TikTok anointed and cemented talent, while media bigwigs, rock stars and actors hung out together at the then newly-founded Groucho Club, feeding on each other’s influence. The idea of a “chief content creator” wasn’t even a twinkle in a Californian tech bro’s eye – he was still at kindergarten.

All the lesser hacks relied on editors and their lavish expense accounts to lubricate the fun. Michael VerMeulen, the American editor of British GQ – where I landed my second job – negotiated an expense account of £40,000 on top of his salary and used to sweep his entire staff out for Groucho jollies. Vermeulen with his flamboyant lingo of “big swinging dicks” (any man he admired) and “doesn’t blow the wind up my skirt” (a lacklustre features pitch) made such great copy that the Guardian sent a journalist to report on what it was like to work in his orbit. I have long cherished the memory of him telling me that when a girlfriend congratulated him on his sexual performance, he instantly replied, “Don’t tell me, tell your friends!” His death, one August bank holiday weekend after an excess of cocaine, was front-page news, and all of Mag Land mourned.

Even back then, Anna Wintour rose above it all like a phoenix born of ice, who would never be glimpsed in civilian settings. A good friend went off to work at US Vogue and reported back that the maestra had her own work lavatory, forbidden to all others, so worker bees couldn’t bear witness to her doing something as human as going to the loo. (This was apparently even the case at her Met Gala balls, where even Hollywood superstars couldn’t share her personal facilities.)

During my brief stint at Conde Nast, before I was fired for sleeping with the deputy editor – reader, I married him – rumours of impending visits from Wintour took on the aspect of Elizabeth I descending on an earl’s country estate to test his coffers and loyalty. Even that friend who went to the Vogue took on some of her boss’s grandiosity. When I bumped into her at an intimate London book launch, I was startled to find she affected not to know me, a phase that happily passed.

There was real power in the corridors of glossies back then, and this could distort personalities even more than the charlie so many meeja folk snorted. An actress or model who couldn’t land a Vogue cover was denied the super-stamp of being in fashion, and so it was for men who couldn’t make a splash on GQ or Esquire’s hoardings. Pamela Anderson may have equalled Princess Diana for sheer fame in the 1990s, but Wintour would not yield her the ultimate accolade of a cover: the sex tape that leaked of Anderson and drummer Tommy Lee deemed her trashy beyond redemption. But in 2023, Anderson had a radical image overhaul, ditching the bombshell slap and going makeup-free to Paris Fashion Week, and every event since. It was intellectual, interesting – and it’s got her on the list for the last two Met Galas.

This year, Anderson went a step further, with a severe bob and sculpted dress that gave her a faint whiff of catwalk Rosa Klebb. She’d have probably worn a straitjacket if it gained her admission to fashion’s front row. Because that, in the end, was Anna Wintour’s nuclear-force superpower: the quiet devastation of a “No”. She was not just an editor, she was the ultimate bouncer with Prada gloves.

Mother calls for rethink of changes to cervical cancer screenings

A woman whose grandmother and mother both had cervical cancer has called for the reversal of recent changes lengthening the intervals between life-saving screenings.

Gemma Barley, 34, had to undergo a biopsy in January 2022 after her regular three-year check-up found abnormal cells in her cervix – despite her previous screening being completely clear.

She fears that if she had been subject to new NHS England rules – which have lengthened the time between check-ups to five years – the outcome could have been worse.

“After a regular smear check-up in 2022 I got a letter to say we’ve found something abnormal in your smear and told I needed a biopsy,” the mother-of-one said.

“It was like my full life had flashed before my eyes. I thought my son was going to be left without a mum. It was horrifying.”

Cervical cancer has affected Ms Barley’s family for generations. She lost her grandmother to the disease aged 54, just three months after being diagnosed in 2004.

Her mother was also diagnosed with cervical cancer in 2018 and had to undergo a hysterectomy to mitigate the risks of the disease.

Ms Barley waited four weeks for her results – which said the cells were not cancerous.

But the psychology graduate said the experience proves how quickly things can change, and fears recent changes to screenings for cervical cancer could “put women’s lives at risk”.

Women aged 25 to 49 who test negative for human papillomavirus (HPV) will now be invited to cervical screening every five years instead of every three, under new NHS guidelines.

According to Cancer UK, nearly all cases of cervical cancer are caused by HPV. Most of the time HPV is cleared from the body by itself, but some types can cause cancer if they stay in the body for a long time so require extra monitoring.

After seeing the planned changes, Ms Barley started a petition to have them reversed and said: “I was really angry when I saw the changes. Because of my first-hand experience, it petrified me.

“My first smear was fine, and I’d seen no significant changes in my life since then. But then my second smear found abnormalities. That’s how quickly that could change – and yet they’re happy to extend it by a further two years.”

The change, set to take effect next month in England, follows recommendations from the UK National Screening Committee.

According to analysis from King’s College London, extending the screening interval to five years for HPV-negative women is just as safe as the current three-year interval, with a similar rate of cancer detection.

An NHS England spokesperson said: “We recognise that changes to cervical screening can seem worrying but want to reassure everyone that this new approach is based on robust scientific evidence and an expert recommendation from the UK National Screening Committee.

“The NHS cervical screening programme tests for HPV and uses a better and more accurate test than before. This means if you test negative for HPV, you don’t need to be screened as often as your risk of developing cervical cancer is very low. If you test positive for HPV, we’ll monitor you more closely with additional tests and follow-up appointments.

“This personalised approach ensures everyone receives the right level of screening based on their individual risk factors, providing better protection while reducing unnecessary procedures.”

A Department of Health and Social Care spokesperson said: “These changes are based on robust scientific evidence and an expert recommendation from the UK National Screening Committee.

“The NHS cervical screening programme tests for HPV which is a more accurate test than the old cytology (smear) test, therefore intervals for those not at high risk can be safely extended from three to five years.

“If you test positive for HPV, you can be assured you will be monitored closely with additional tests and follow-up appointments.”

Rampant Lions thrash Western Force in entertaining tour match

The British and Irish Lions gave the Western Force a lesson in ruthless finishing as they kicked off their Australia tour with an ultimately comfortable 54-7 victory in front of a big crowd at Perth Stadium.

Tomos Williams, who later exited with what appeared to be a hamstring injury, and Elliot Daly both crossed twice with skipper Dan Sheehan, Garry Ringrose, Joe McCarthy and Alex Mitchell also scoring as a much-changed Lions team bounced back from their 28-24 loss to Argentina in Dublin last week.

Henry Pollock‘s first start in a Lions shirt did not disappoint with a line break to set up one try and a chip-and-chase earning the field position for another as well as a yellow card late in the first half.

The Force did enough to assuage the fears of Lions management that the tour matches would not be competitive and a solitary try from veteran Wallabies scrum half Nic White hardly did justice to their contribution to the contest.

Relive all the action from Optus Stadium with our live blog below:

Europe heatwave latest: Tourist ‘dies of heatstroke’ in Spain

A Dutch tourist has died of heatstroke in Mallorca, according to local reports.

The 34-year-old collapsed while hiking with friends in Camí de Son Sales, the Majorca Daily Bulletin reported.

Emergency services attempted to resuscitate him but were unable to, according to the publication.

Meanwhile, wildfires have ripped through Greece as Europe is braced for extreme temperatures of up to 40C in some popular holiday hotspots.

Rome and Madrid are set to hit almost 40C on Saturday, and warnings are in place for cities including Paris and Rome over the weekend and into next week as a heatwave hits the continent.

Five villages south of Athens were evacuated after a large wildfire, fanned by strong winds, raged near the capital.

The fire department has deployed 90 firefighters, supported by eight water-dropping planes and five helicopters, to battle the inferno.

Met Office spokesperson Stephen Dixon warned that southern and western Europe was experiencing a heatwave which was also extending into southeastern parts of the continent.

How a family’s beef wellington lunch ended in a murder trial

No-one has disputed that death cap mushrooms were in the beef wellington that killed three people and left another in a coma for week after a fateful lunch on a July Saturday in 2023.

But the key question in the Australian murder trial of Erin Patterson was how those deadly mushrooms got there.

The mother-of-two has been charged with murdering her estranged husband’s parents Don and Gail Patterson, as well as Gail’s sister Heather Wilkinson, and charged with the attempted murder of Heather’s husband Ian.

The trial is due to conclude next week, with the jury expected to retire to consider its verdict. Over two months the court has heard in great detail about what happened but questions about why still linger.

In her own words, Patterson was a big fan of mushrooms.

“They taste good and are very healthy,” she told the regional Victorian court. “I’d buy all the different types that Woolies would sell.”

She got so into mushrooms that she began foraging for wild ones during Covid lockdowns, Patterson said, but admitted that identifying safe varieties was sometimes difficult. She testified that she couldn’t remember, but it was possible she had searched online for death cap mushrooms.

All the while, the accused agreed during her two weeks on the witness stand that her relationship with her estranged husband Simon Patterson had become strained.

The Pattersons had separated several times after the birth of their son in 2009, and separated in 2015 but maintained a friendly relationship, as both told the court. Mr Patterson told the court that the issue seemed to begin when he had listed himself as separated on a tax return.

“She wasn’t happy with that,” he said, explaining that the change would affect their family tax benefit, and they mutually agreed she would pursue child support payments.

In the months before the fatal lunch she had tried to involve her in-laws, Don and Gail Patterson, in their dispute over school fees. She acknowledged in court that was unfair.

“They were doing nothing but trying to support us,” she said. “I was asking them to agree with me that I was right and Simon was wrong, and that wasn’t fair.”

She revealed that, in private messages to friends, she had vented frustration by calling the Patterson family a “lost cause” and saying, “so f*** ‘em.”

Growing visibly emotional in court, she told the jury she “needed to vent”.

“The choice was either go into the paddock and tell the sheep or vent to these women,” she said, adding that she had probably “played up the emotion” to get support from her online friends.

“I wish I’d never said it. I feel ashamed for saying it and I wish that the family didn’t have to hear that I said that,” she told the court. “They didn’t deserve it.”

Patterson had been a “fundamentalist atheist” when she met her future husband, a Christian, in 2004, while working at a Melbourne council. But she told the court she had a “spiritual experience” at the Korumburra Baptist Church, led by Mr Patterson’s uncle and the only surviving lunch victim, Mr Wilkinson.

The court heard Patterson inherited $2 million (£950,000) from her grandmother two years later, and she used the money to buy properties and loan money to her husband’s siblings.

She also admitted to having low self-esteem, and to struggling with her weight.

Patterson lied to her lunch guests about having cancer because she felt ashamed that she was really having bariatric surgery for weight loss, she told the court.

Her estranged husband had also been invited, but he turned the invitation down the day before, the jury heard, and in messages shown to the court she expressed disappointment at his decision.

“That’s really disappointing, I’ve spent many hours this week preparing lunch for tomorrow,” Patterson allegedly responded. “It’s important for me that you’re all there… I hope you change your mind.”

In closing arguments, prosecutors in Patterson’s triple-murder trial outlined four calculated deceptions at the heart of their case: a fake cancer diagnosis to lure her guests, the deliberate death cap mushroom poisoning, lies that she too had fallen ill and an ongoing cover-up to hide the alleged truth.

“She had complete control over the ingredients that went into the lunch,” chief prosecutor Nanette Rogers said.

Two of the lunch guests had also noted that Patterson’s lunch meal was served on a different coloured plate to that of her guests, the court heard.

Afterwards, the prosecution said Patterson gave inconsistent and vague accounts about where she got the mushrooms from, and was slow to respond to the Department of Health which was trying to get to the bottom of the source of the deadly fungi.

The prosecution also told the jury Patterson had pretended to be sick to family and to medical workers to suggest she had also eaten the same meal as her guests, in an attempt “to disguise her crime”.

But Patterson denied these allegations. At the end of her cross examination, three accusations were put to her: that she deliberately got death cap mushrooms, that she knowingly put them in the beef wellingtons and that she intended to kill her lunch guests.

To each accusation, she said: “disagree”.

Her defence said she panicked after learning her lunch may have poisoned her guests, and she had not been prepared for the intense reaction she received when first arriving at hospital with symptoms of loose stools following the meal.

Summarising the trial, Chief Justice Christopher Beale told the jury that her defence said “she found it difficult to accept she may have suffered death cap mushroom poisoning. She had not come prepared to be admitted overnight. She needed to make arrangements for the children and the animals … and was intending to return to hospital.”

From Monday afternoon, the jury will have to weigh the nine weeks of testimony to decide whether the prosecution has proven beyond reasonable doubt that Patterson committed murder.

The 7 best outdoor adventures in Sydney and New South Wales

Whether you’re lacing up your hiking boots, throwing on a wetsuit to catch some waves, or hitting the wide-open roads of New South Wales (NSW) by campervan, this Australian state is home to some of the country’s most exciting outdoor adventures – all easily accessible thanks to Qantas’ extensive domestic network.

Flying into Sydney with Qantas is the ideal way to experience a slice of Australia before you’ve even landed. And with onboard wellbeing perks, plus the option to book more discounted domestic legs using Qantas Explorer, it really is the savvy traveller’s best way to explore Australia.

Here are seven next-level outdoor adventures in NSW, and the best way to get there.

Sydney might be a modern metropolis, but it’s also home to an extraordinary natural playground, the star attraction of which is Sydney Harbour National Park. This protected area weaves through the city’s coastline, offering walking trails, secluded beaches, and panoramic views that blend wild bushland with iconic urban landmarks. Away from the National Park, you can paddle a kayak at dawn beneath the Sydney Harbour Bridge, go on a cycle tour and sunset cruise around Manly and North Heads coastal cliffs, or follow the Bondi to Coogee coastal walk for sweeping ocean views and refreshing swim spots.

Just a 90-minute trip from Sydney by road, the UNESCO World Heritage-listed Blue Mountains is an endless landscape of towering eucalyptus forests and striking sandstone cliffs as far as the eye can see. There are few places quite as grand as this so close to a city. Don your hiking boots and traverse spectacular scenery to Wentworth Falls or take on the Grand Canyon Track – a 6km loop of dramatic cliffs, fern-fringed valleys and thundering waterfalls with lookouts to match. If you’re an early riser, watch the sunrise at Echo Point, where the Three Sisters rock formation is lit up by the glow of first light.

Wildlife lovers need to head north to Port Macquarie for some of the best marine encounters on the east coast. Humpback whales are almost guaranteed from May to November, and dolphins can be spotted all year round. For front-row views, jump on a whale-watching cruise, or pitch up with a picnic on a headland and watch the breaching giants from afar.

Swap the sandy beaches for subtropical rainforest in Coffs Harbour’s hinterland in Dorrigo National Park, where winding roads serpentine through flourishing banana plantations, dense palm-filled forest and endless rolling hills. The region’s cycling trails range from casual loops to more challenging rides with jaw-to-the-floor sea views.

Aussies love their surfing, and Byron Bay is the epitome of surf culture Down Under, with beaches to suit all skill levels; from the gentle swell at The Pass to barrel-laden breaks at Tallows. If you’ve got any stamina left, soak up the view from Cape Byron Lighthouse post-surf – the easternmost point of mainland Australia.

With over 8,000 islands to its name, Australia offers the ultimate in island adventures. Lord Howe is one of them, a UNESCO World Heritage-listed pristine island, where only 400 visitors are allowed at any one time. You’ll find rare birds, kaleidoscopic coral reefs, and Mount Gower, offering one of the best day hikes in the country, with epic coastline views and dizzying drops.

For those who need more than a beach stroll to get the heart pumping, grab a kayak and explore the Sapphire Coast from the water in Merimbula. Glide over crystal-clear waters, past secluded coves, pristine beaches, and the untouched beauty of surrounding national parks. Keep an eye out for dolphins and other marine life as you paddle. Once back on shore, refuel with the region’s famous fresh oysters and enjoy a refreshing dip at Bar Beach.

Book your flight to Sydney today at qantas.com and start your Australian adventure.

The Kneecap controversy is proof they’re the perfect Glastonbury band

At Glastonbury Festival’s Apocalypse Museum, an art installation slash testament to the world’s current woes, images of Gazan destruction are broadcast on TV sets, while an enormous sign transforms the Shell oil logo into the word “hell”. Over on the Pyramid Stage, meanwhile, Matty Healy of The 1975 uses his set to proclaim the value of keeping politically schtum. “You can go out into the world and there’s loads of politics everywhere,” he said. “We don’t need more politics. We need more love and friendship.” In the crowd, the moment is met by light whoops. Many seem to wince.

This is the strange paradox of Glastonbury Festival, where anger, protest and political action sit geographically parallel to gak, hedonism and the allure of doing and thinking absolutely nothing. And then there’s Kneecap, an Irish hip-hop trio who’ve come to exemplify this very split (or is it a contradiction?), their presence at this year’s Glastonbury – in the face of mounting criticism from across the political spectrum – an unexpected referendum on the festival’s soul. That they haven’t been banned from performing is proof that there’s still life in this old girl yet.

Kneecap were arguably popularised in 2024, when they played themselves in an acclaimed semi-accurate biopic (in which Michael Fassbender played one of their dads, a former republican paramilitary). But many more will have likely only heard of them in the last few months, now that they are – to quote The Times – “the most controversial band in music since the Sex Pistols”. And with that they bring to Glastonbury a degree of anti-establishment rage that has always underpinned the festival, but which in recent years has played more of a cameo role when it comes to the actual line-up of acts.

Kneecap are, regardless of where you stand on that aforementioned controversy, the perfect Glastonbury band: a trio of men who spit bars about substance use and partying, as well as colonialism, sectarian violence and the scourge of political apathy. They rap in Irish as a form of reclamation against the English, something that has previously put them in the crosshairs of Kemi Badenoch, who in 2023 blocked them from receiving a government-funded music grant due to their politics (this was later found to be unlawful, and the band donated the resulting money to charity.)

Kneecap’s music remains anarchic and free-wheeling, full of chugging techno, wit and rage. In recent months their attention has turned to the Israel and Palestine war, the band playing in front of screens reading “F*** Israel” and “Israel is committing genocide against the Palestinian people” during their April Coachella set (on social media, Sharon Osbourne, OF ALL PEOPLE, called for them to be banned from America). They have also argued that the recent negative headlines they’ve generated, and their ongoing legal battles, are politically motivated theatre. This includes the resurfacing of past concert videos in which the band are seen saying “the only good Tory is a dead Tory” and “kill your MP”. (In an interview published Friday, the band said these were jokes, some provocative, if-you-know-you-know stage riffing rather than a literal call to murder.) “14,000 babies are about to die of starvation in Gaza, with food sent by the world sitting on the other side of a wall, and once again the British establishment is focused on us,” the band wrote in a statement in June.

Despite calls for the band to be dropped from Glastonbury, festival organiser Emily Eavis has continued to support Kneecap’s presence here, while her father Michael responded to the question of whether Glastonbury still stands for something with blunt candour this week: “Oh heaven’s above, yes, of course it does. And I think the people that come here are into all those things. People that don’t agree with the politics of the event can go somewhere else.”

And that feels historically in keeping with a festival that, even with the ever-evolving significance of commercial support for the event, has always embodied leftist politics and leftist causes, from its long-time support for the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament, as well as environmental and social causes, to the eternal presence of Billy Bragg, who each and every year will be somewhere talking here. And then there are the performers – the anti-Healys, I suppose – who’ve used their sets to make political statements. Blur condemned the Brexit result mid-performance in 2016. Stormzy got his Pyramid crowd to chant “f*** Boris” in 2019. In 2022, Billie Eilish and Phoebe Bridgers were among the US acts who used their sets to express dismay at the then-fresh overturning of America’s constitutional right to abortion. And the event famously had Jeremy Corbyn introduce Run the Jewels in 2017, but not before willing the Pyramid Stage crowd into a socialist battle-cry.

Impossible not to notice this year, too, are the “Free Palestine” flags being waved through crowds this year, along with the keffiyehs slung on necks and the watermelon pins and clutch bags. An installation by the activist collective Led by Donkeys, unveiled on site this week, imagines the likes of Starmer, Elon Musk and JK Rowling being blasted off the planet and straight to Mars. In his Q&A at the site’s Pilton Palais cinema on Thursday, Andrew Garfield railed against “soulless oligarchs who don’t give a f*** about us”. Here, the boogeymen are cut-and-dry, if never quite the focus.

At the Apocalypse Museum, festival-goers emerge shellshocked, while others avoid it entirely. “It’s obviously depressing, but I’m glad it’s here,” says Izzy, a council worker from Leicester, who was on her way to see the campy Irish belter CMAT when she and her partner ventured inside the Museum. “It needs to be here.” Others avoid it entirely. “Nah, not for me,” REMARKS one person scuttling by.

Jack, a student from Leeds, is another Museum attendee and is excited for Kneecap’s set. “They’re what Glastonbury is all about,“ he tells me. “It’s about speaking truth to power, it’s about giving a f***.”

And the prevailing mood, noticeable even to the least right-on types here, is hope. Introducing a secret set by Lorde on Friday morning, an elderly man who looks uncannily like Gandalf walks onto stage in a Free Palestine T-shirt, and tells the gathered crowd that this is his 42nd Glastonbury. “There’s so much s*** going on in the world, so let’s make this a peaceful event,” he urges the crowd. “And hopefully that peace will spread to the world.” Everyone around me whoops and cheers in agreement. Marijuana wafts through the air. Then the dancing starts.

Putting cancer warnings on alcohol would help me drink less

Back in the early noughties, the indoor smoking ban led to an outcry over “the nanny state”. The same happened when cigarette advertising was banned, and when manufacturers were required to plaster packs with images of diseased lungs. Yet over the past 40 years, according to Cancer Research, lung cancer rates in men have dropped by around 60 per cent. We may think we crave the rugged freedoms of the Marlboro Man, but given the facts, it turns out we don’t actually want to die.

And yet when it comes to alcohol, one of the world’s biggest killers, a key driver of cancers, heart disease, strokes and obesity, there are no images of rotting livers on the chilled Sauvignon. The presentation of booze in the supermarket aisles is as benign as kitchen roll and chicken pie. It’s described on restaurant menus with biblical reverence, it’s advertised on TV in a hazy, golden-hour glow, and every other greetings card carries a hilarious reference to the booze-addled nature of the recipient. It is both normalised and celebrated, despite being the fifth greatest risk factor for death in the UK.

Now, a group of major medical and health organisations have signed a letter to the Prime Minister calling for alcohol to carry explicit warnings that its consumption can cause cancer. The World Cancer Research Fund, which spearheaded the letter, cited “shockingly low” public awareness that alcohol raises the risk of seven types of cancer – these being breast, bowel, stomach, head, neck, liver and mouth – and insisted that “bold and unambiguous labelling” is urgently need to help save lives.

Token efforts have long been made by the industry to toe a wavering line of responsibility – the number of units a bottle of wine contains written in a font the size of a gnat’s IKEA instructions, or a glancing mention that pregnant women shouldn’t drink. According to the Advertising Standards Authority, “Lively, but responsible, social interaction or party scenes with alcohol present are allowed but…no behaviour may be adolescent or childish.” If only that diktat held true in real-life “party scenes.”

Initially, like much of Gen X and our wine-necking Boomer parents, I was resistant to the idea of cancer warnings. If I wanted to slowly kill myself in a responsible and socially acceptable manner, I felt it should be my choice to do so. But after another night of drinking slightly too much with friends, waking bathed in shame and a light prosecco sweat, I reconsidered. Women, particularly, are at risk of harm from alcohol, simply because we’re smaller. If every time I picked up the wine bottle to top up my glass – over a healthy dinner! So civilised! – it reminded me that I was increasing my risk of cancer, I suspect I might put it back down. Humans like to ignore the dangers when it’s something we want to do until it becomes impossible to turn a blind eye.

But this time, it’s not so much the consumers resisting warnings as the enormously powerful drinks industry. It’s already up against Gen Z’s wellbeing crusade, with a tsunami of kumbucha and kefir washing away the old-school shots and spirits from nights out. The risk of drinkers murmuring, “Actually, I don’t think I do want seven types of cancer” and switching the kettle on instead is a step too far.

A spokesperson for the Portman Group, which oversees UK alcohol labelling in the UK, says: “Whilst we do not dispute the link between alcohol and certain cancers… blanket cancer warning labels…can create unnecessary anxiety, eroding trust in health advice and alienating the very people who require support.’

As an argument, this is weaker than a sixth-form debating point scribbled on the bus. Imagine the motor industry saying, “Road signs create unnecessary anxiety. Let’s not warn people that they might crash, lest we alienate drivers.”

The spokesperson added that most alcohol products already include advice to limit drinking to 14 units a week, and claimed that “most people drink within guidelines.”

According to NHS Digital, however, 24 per cent of Brits drink more than this, while the charity Drinkaware has found that 32 per cent of men and 15 per cent of women regularly sink more than the recommended limit – and it is a limit, not a target. Doctors repeatedly warn that there is no safe level of alcohol consumption, and in April, the World Health Organisation advised that women should drink no alcohol at all to avoid a heightened risk of breast cancer.

I’m aware that even reading this is annoying. I share the general British resentment over finger-wagging admonishments from the Fun Police. I want to say, “You’ll prise my Picpoul from my cold, dead hand.” The only thing is, I’d rather not be cold and dead – and I’m increasingly convinced that warning labels can only be a good thing. Although, of course, we must be careful how we approach this new regime. After all, we wouldn’t want to alienate anybody.