Karren Brady - that's what a real feminist looks like - Telegraph Some might say that Brady has forfeited the right to call herself a feminist because she owes her career in football management to men who made their money through porn (David Sullivan and David Gold); and certainly she could never quite answer to my satisfaction how she squared her principles with working for employers who had made money this way. So she doesn't have classic feminist credentials, unless you count the fact that her driving force was never having to rely on anyone other than herself. And I doubt you're ever going to see Brady teetering on her Prada heels at a demo, or campaigning to end Page 3. Not that she is soft on sexism. Early in her career at Birmingham City, the first time she got on the team bus, a player quipped: "I can see your tits from here." Brady replied: "When I sell you to Crewe, you won't be able to see them from there will you?" And she sold him. But I've found it annoying that over the years Brady has shied away from calling herself the F-word, perhaps to avoid alienating others in the business world (including her Apprentice boss, Lord Sugar, who has memorably complained about not being able to ask women in job interviews about their children and child care plans). This week she came closest to joining the sisterhood by quoting Rebecca West's aphorism that a woman is called a feminist whenever she expresses sentiments that differentiate from a doormat. Yet her actions are often self-evidently feminist. She's not a Thatcher, breaking through glass ceilings, but leaving other women behind. She has consistently promoted other women - by the time she left Birmingham City, 75 per cent of senior management was female. She has spoken out on two of the key areas for women in this country: equal pay and access to good-quality child care, which she has said she intends to pursue in the Lords. It probably won't have escaped the new Lady Brady that coinciding with the week she took ermine, women had just effectively started working for free until the end of the year thanks to the rising gender pay gap. While she failed to take maternity leave herself - she was worried two decades ago that she would lose her job - she has also said that women who work in the home should not be dismissed as doing "menial" work, and indeed one of the crucial areas that feminism needs to address is how best to help women who have to juggle caring roles with work. Sitting in the House of Lords, rather than fighting for a Tory seat at the next election, means Brady has arguably chosen privilege over democracy, which I'm surprised by - I'd have liked to have seen her in the Commons with Harman, who has long campaigned for women. But that doesn't mean we should automatically cross her off the sisterhood list. Feminism should be about embracing all kinds of women who want to see equality for both genders. And, after all, the early suffragettes" slogan was "deeds not words." I'd rather have a Brady who goes out and promotes women, than a celeb or politician who thinks wearing a slogan across their chest is enough. The biker who ensnared Silvio And now a tale of heart-warming romance to cheer up a cold and frosty November weekend. If anyone wants to know how to win the love of a former prime minister, a twentysomething former shop assistant from Naples has the answer. Last week, Francesca Pascale gave an intriguing insight into how she ensnared Silvio Berlusconi, a man not likely to be seen in a "This is what a feminist looks like" T-shirt any time soon. Ms Pascale, who met the former Italian leader at a political event in Rome, says: "I looked at him like an idiot and said to him 'You are beautiful" and he smiled (and said) 'Are you feeling OK?" " Ms Pascale, who poses tastefully on her Harley-Davidson for the Italian magazine Oggi (Berlusconi apparently did not approve of her purchase) goes on to describe how the man who put "bunga bunga" into the international vocabulary is in fact "very tender, funny, ironic and tireless." But she makes clear that it has not been an easy process convincing her elderly amour that they should be together - she had to wear him down with a charm offensive. Apparently Francesca, now 29, divulges that the 78-year-old billionaire was worried about their age gap. Well, it's hard not to disagree. Given Berlusconi's previous entanglements with the exotic dancer Karima "Ruby the Heartstealer" El Mahroug (aged 17) and his attendance at Noemi Letizia's 18th- birthday party, it does seem as if the charming Pascale is a little too old for him. High notes and low behaviour It certainly gives a new meaning to "jumping the shark." When Mozart's Idomeneo opened at the Royal Opera House last week, and a giant rubber shark was hauled on stage, the response was not applause but what has been described as a "Mexican wave of booing." All these years we've seen opera as a civilising influence. But what is it with these culture vultures? Beneath the black tie and champagne in the interval, they turn out to be no more refined than the most boorish of Millwall supporters at an away match. In fact, low behaviour during high culture is nothing new. Poor old Bizet was booed out of the opera house when he premiered that notable failure of his, Carmen. Stravinsky's ballet The Rite of Spring provoked a full-blown riot at its first performance. Such behaviours have rightly been described as symbolic of how much audiences care about the art form they are watching - and it is said that it's the duty of performers to earn applause rather than see it as a right. Added to that, if you've ever forked out a three-figure sum for an evening, you can see why some audiences may wish to express their discontent loudly. But Kasper Holten, the director of opera at the Royal Opera House, believes that booing has increased because opera-goers are using social media to egg each other on. I'm more worried about the idea of a Covent Garden audience tweeting furiously at each other throughout a performance than jeering to indicate disapproval of a soprano's aria. Now that really is bad manners - and something that deserves an ear-splitting boo.