The last time I saw Trudie Styler in the flesh, she was front row at Versace in Milan, watching the likes of Gisele Bundchen and Carmen Kass sashay past in all their earlytwenties loveliness. She was seated next to her husband, Sting, and was holding on to him for dear life, as if he might be filled with helium and would, at a moment's loss of concentration on her part, float tantalisingly out of her grasp. She was like that too when I saw her on the telly at Live 8. There she was in a great big hat and floaty dress, clinging to her husband like a Russian vine, all simpering noises and ingratiating angles. Yeughh. I hate women like that. Stupid women, usually blonde, who are defined by their husbands; who are too terrified to ever let their man out of their sights...