“Steve has a wonderful ability to turn on a sixpence,” the writer reckons. “I like the way he makes no concessions – he never tries to make his character nicer. He doesn’t ingratiate himself with the audience, but he still manages to draw them in and by the end they have grown to like him.”The full-on bonnets and bustles of The Secret Life of Samuel Pepys mark quite a radical change for Jenkin, who is primarily a satirist. However, the writer did not have to check in his trademark wryness before embarking on this costume drama. When, for example, Pepys and one of his countless mistresses are spotted by a passer-by making love on a north London common, his lover reassures him: “don’t worry, everyone does it up here in Islington”.As well as providing a piercing insight into Pepys’ character, the diaries have also bequeathed to us is “a fascinating picture of home life in the 17th Century”, says Jenkin. It ain’t over, as the saying goes, until the fat lady sings.. Even if she wins Pop Idol, her chances of sustaining a career even half as long as those accorded Will and Gareth are surely limited by her inability to conform to the bland stereotype demanded of today’s stars, those rake-thin looks only achieved through eating disorders every bit as damaging as an all-pie diet.We can but hope But one thing is certain about the current Pop Idol.

Whether our Michelle will manage to overcome the pop public’s natural distaste for fat with similar aplomb remains to be seen. But where less outre music is involved, the indie constituency can be a hard nut to crack. Take the case of Ultrasound, the glam-prog outfit hotly tipped as the next big thing a few years back, whose failure was doubtless hastened by the unashamed portliness of its frontman, Tiny.Thrash metal has traditionally been a haven for the more well-endowed musician, notably Tad of the grunge-rock band of the same name. But even in that testosterone-rich arena, fat effectively disqualifies one from fame.

Compared to the fallen-angel appeal of a Kurt Cobain, Tad had no chance.The most fat-sympathetic branches of the music industry – apart, of course, from opera, where fat is virtually a prerequisite – are all black. In blues and jazz, big is beautiful; something to shout about rather than be ashamed of. Big Joe Turner, Big Joe Williams, Big Mama Thornton – for these artists, their size was a positive factor, an indication of the massive lung-power at their disposal. In soul music, Luther Vandross has likewise suffered little for his Oprah-esque vacillations in size, while Barry White’s vastness was always his unique selling point. The Walrus of Love is unusual, however, in retaining a romantic image throughout his career; for most fat stars, their popularity entails a sort of emasculated, desexualised appeal. They can sing about love, but it’s always accepted that they’re disinterested observers with no personal vested interest, merely suppliers of the soundtrack to their audience’s love-lives.