t seems that Adele’s weight is fast becoming a feminist issue, although not in the way people usually mean. Last year, images of the singer’s extreme weight loss rocked the world. When she released a photo to mark her 32nd birthday last week, the internet exploded all over again. Some people thought her new look was great; others considered it a (whisper it) betrayal. Some accused her of having a gastric band; others bitched that she would soon pile it all back on again. “She looks good.” “She looks bad.” “She looks weird.” And on it goes. Adele isn’t new to this: her weight was also discussed (admiringly, critically, endlessly) before she lost it. In the modern musical landscape, where female artists specifically are viciously pressured to be perma-slim, the message seemed to be that she was one of those rare talents who were “allowed” to be bigger. At other times, the focus on her weight verged on patronising and reductive, as though her BMI-based “relatability” was the main draw and her talent a poor second. Sign up for the Sleeve Notes email: music news, bold reviews and unexpected extras Read more Is this why she decided to lose weight (she felt trapped in an outdated, stifling persona), or was it for health, love, personal reinvention? “Come on, Adele,” the world seems to be saying. “Never mind your stellar achievements. Stand in a pair of outsized leggings stretching them out to demonstrate how wonderfully skinny you got. Tell us your weight loss story.” For some, weight truly is the torture that never ends. On Planet Woman, even today, weight loss is still mainly cast as the life-giving sun, while weight gain is the foreboding death star that will kill your dreams. For some, it gets properly serious. The plus-size people who are made to feel grotesque on a daily basis. The anorexics whose deadly mental health condition is undermined and underfunded. The questions – the rage – around weight, diets and body image never stop. Why is a thin woman preferable to a fat one? Why is smaller better than bigger? Then you get Adele, a celebrity who decided to lose a shedload of weight, and there’s another pressing feminist question: whose business is it really? It’s depressing that one of the most celebrated singers of her generation has been reduced so easily and vehemently to a fat/thin binary. It’s not that there’s been a reaction to Adele’s weight loss; rather, that she has come to embody every possible over-reaction. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of a gossip but, casting around, neutrality to her new body is tellingly scarce. Instead, it’s Adele is a “thinspiration”. No, Adele is too thin! She’s let down other women! She’s cheated with surgery! She’ll be fat again soon! Some of these people won’t even realise why her size matters so much to them, just that it really does. Somehow, just by deciding to lose weight, Adele has been forced to take on the burden of all the fatphobia in the world. Scientists have never been so sexy Oh no, the mother-in-law of the disgraced government scientific adviser, Neil Ferguson, clearly didn’t get the media memo. When asked to comment, Eileen Pirie was supposed to slate Ferguson for having his “married girlfriend” over. Instead, Pirie defended him, calling the attacks disgraceful. “I just cannot understand how someone who has done so much for this country can be vilified in this way.” Ms Pirie, have you lived here long? Otherwise, although there’s much to love about your spirited and civilised response, it’s complicated regarding Ferguson. Obviously Ferguson, who has resigned, shouldn’t have flouted his own lockdown advice. Sure, some of the attacks seem politically motivated, not to mention salacious. However, Ferguson has a nerve: telling everyone to stay home to save lives, and then having his girlfriend over to save his own sanity. This was exceptionalism as its raciest. Still, no wonder some scientists might prefer to remain anonymous. It’s one thing signing up to steer the nation through a pandemic, quite another ending up as tabloid fodder. There’s also the downer of Dominic Cummings and his chums showing up, like it’s open day at epidemiology camp. Not to mention complaints from Sage sub-committee, SPI-B, about an official a report where criticism of the government was redacted. If this carries on, seats on scientific committees will have to start featuring leather straps and leg irons to keep the scientists there. It’s not entirely unamusing to ponder the concept of data love gods (“Is that your statistical model, or are you just pleased to see me?”). However, as lockdown diversions go, this story has served its purpose, and perhaps we need to refocus our attention on what scientists are actually saying. Stealing children’s safeguards by stealth Children may not be a high-risk group for coronavirus, but England’s most vulnerable children appear to be increasingly unprotected in other important ways. Children’s charities are complaining, and one, Article 39, is threatening legal action because the government appears to be using the crisis to remove vital safeguards for children in care. More than 60 protections have been removed or diluted covering crucial areas: reviews, scrutiny, notification of criminal convictions, and more. Some people may think “that’s a shame but this is an emergency”. However, removal of protections has been attempted before (and stopped by the Lords). The government acted without public consultation or parliamentary debate. Organisations that the government says it consulted deny that this happened. Only England is removing the safeguards, not Scotland, Wales or Northern Ireland. Many withdrawn protections are not even coronavirus related. While changes are supposed to be temporary, there is no legal commitment to reinstate them. Coronavirus has turned the country – the world – upside down. Everyone understands that. However, it’s completely unacceptable not to have an official government commitment to reinstate protections post-lockdown. The children’s minister, Vicky Ford, has failed to respond to parliamentary questions, but she should start doing so. More than 78,000 children are in care in England. It’s our duty to look out for them.