Is sympathy finite? The Rolling Stones suggested that we might extend this tenderest of emotions towards ‘Old Nick’ himself, but I’m not so sure. Can we really just keep feeling sorry for people infinitely, and expect it never to run out? How about empathy – that favourite buttonhole bloom of the slippery self-adoring? Are we required to have empathy with every delicate little flower who claims victimhood or may we sternly put our judgemental hat on and decide ‘No, you’re an over-privileged self-pitier – back of the queue!’

Is it better for nepo-babes to be nice and in denial, or brazenly revelling in it and therefore more honest, but also nastier?

I considered this recently when made aware of a Good Housekeeping interview with the fragrant Ella Mills, blogger and proud owner of th

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