Hurt fired Myleene’s first Klass campaign, says Vanessa Feltz

Miscarriage used to be literally unmentionable. Myriad euphemisms sprung up around it as the reality of a longed-for baby, ‘lost’ before its parents were able to embrace him or her, was just too much for onlookers to bear. Sympathisers trotted out platitudes: ‘It was for the best’, ‘You can try again soon’ and ‘It wasn’t meant to be’. Mourning a child who to the rest of the world never existed, the parents grieved alone, desperate for answers from an ill-informed medical establishment incapable of either explanations or solutions. Women who had suffered an agonising shock were left to walk, dazed through wards full of smiling mums-to-be clutching their baby scan pictures. Myleene Klass, right, and Labour MP Olivia Blake (Image: Simon Jones PR/PA) How should expectant siblings deal with their bereavement? Baby-less fathers were simply ignored, and the idea that they might be suffering was never acknowledged. No intervention for mental or physical health was provided by the NHS until after the anguish of a third miscarriage. Families were thus condemned to a trio of traumatic events before help, treatment or preventative measures could even begin to be offered. However, courageous campaigning by the indefatigable Myleene Klass, survivor of four miscarriages and the voice of the heart-breaking documentary Miscarriage And Me, has changed all that. On Saturday Myleene and Labour MP Olivia Blake, together with baby loss charity Tommy’s, made history and achieved a revolution in the care and treatment of women who miscarry. No woman will ever again have to endure three miscarriages before being deemed to deserve mental health support and a plan of consultant-led specialist care. GPs will be retrained to grasp the urgency and delicacy needed to help women at their most vulnerable, and appraised of the latest preventative measures. Guidelines at the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists will be updated. Hospital floor plans will be altered so women in shock won’t have to brave rooms of smiling expectant mums. Language will be amended to encompass the reality of miscarriage. Stricken souls won’t be asked how they want to dispose of what are neutrally called ‘the products of pregnancy’: namely, their baby’s earthly remains. Although Myleene only wanted to be a musician and not pound the halls of Westminster, she’s a formidable advocate and activist. She won’t stop till British women achieve Scandinavian levels of data collection. I’m in awe of her ability to transform the lives of her daughters and my granddaughters. She’d be a fiercely effective force in the Lords and is the perfect candidate for non-partisan ennoblement. Myleene Klass (Image: Getty) My heart aches for Patsy Kensit who has split from fiance Patric Cassidy after their engagement in September. There are rumours of raised voices, public spats and Patric snatching back the impressive diamond ring. All that matters is Patsy, 55, surveying the wreckage of their relationship and wondering, as so many of us can’t help doing, if there really is much chance of finding love when you’re 50-plus. There’s no doubt romance is tougher to find with every passing year. Ageing suitors pitch up bristling with baggage, and some of us are so deeply damaged that it’s difficult to trust people, and hard to remember what the point of a partner is supposed to be. Patsy is going to throw herself into her work – EastEnders – and piece herself back together again. She’s an incurable romantic. So am I, and we’ll find our Mr Rights somewhere, somehow. Meanwhile Patsy, I’m your wingwoman for a night on the tiles. A national sorrow The passing of Britain’s home-grown and much-admired crooner Vince Hill at the age of 89 should be noted with national sorrow. In the 1960s and 70s it was almost impossible to switch on the telly without handsome Vince strolling in and giving it large with his only No.1, Edelweiss. The former coal miner exuded charm and bonhomie. He was a blessing to chat show hosts and a pantomime goldmine. Grandmas the length and breadth of Britain wished their granddaughters could meet ‘a lovely man like Vince’. May choirs of angels sing him to his rest. Patsy Kensit (Image: Getty) I admit it. I went to the Barbie movie poised to mock. OK, my girls adored her, and sure, over the years we bought her dream house, stables, Cadillac, private jet and ambulance, and every outfit from astronaut to bride. I might have even have had a marvellous time pretending to dust her but actually playing secretly while the girls were at school. And I might even, at the antique age of 61, still model my fashion look on hers. I’d read reviews and arrived at a pre-release screening ready to despise the film and walk out when I could no longer stand it. But let me be scrupulously honest. I loved every pink -lipstick frame. Greta Gerwig is a genius. Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling are perfectly cast. Will Ferrell is hysterical. Don’t believe the naysayers. The plot is as convincing as a story about a doll entering our world needs to be. The jokes flow and the clothes, evoke so many fond childhood memories. Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling (Image: Getty) Naturally, I couldn’t watch the scintillating Wham! documentary on Netflix without unveiling my own personal Wham! story. I was sent by a teen magazine to interview George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley in 1994. We were the same age. They’d just fallen out with their record company, sealed a new deal and released Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. Suddenly they asked if they could interrupt my questions to listen to the radio. Their relatives and friends had been ringing the Capital Radio Hitline all weekend voting for it and they needed to check how it was going. Oh my goodness. It was at the top – their first No.1 hit. The two began dancing on the sofa and pulled me up to dance with them. I was ecstatic. They gave me the single and I played it so often my parents’ nerves were shot. That’s it – my personal and wonderful tale of Wham! David Bowie sporting the mullet in 1973 (Image: Getty) Say it’s not so. The mullet is back. It’s official. Hairdressers say requests for the Pat Sharp special doubled last month alone. TikTok users are so beguiled by the short-top and sides, long-back barnet that clips of the look have attracted more than 12 billion views. I know that in its heyday this hideous and unbecoming style was sported by luminaries including the late David Bowie, Toyah Willcox and Sir Rod Stewart, but if the urge hits you, let me issue a warning. Mullets are a nightmare to grow out. Imagine all the different lengths straggling on – at different lengths – forever. You’ll never be rid of the wretched thing. Some 1970s veterans are still cursed with the remnants.