Tulisa Contostavlos and why classism is the last acceptable prejudice in British society - Anthony Clavane

You might think I’ve taken leave of my senses. I’ve certainly taken leave of my comfort zone, defending a controversial young celebrity whose fall from grace has been well documented – and, at times, gleefully celebrated – in the tabloids.

But now she’s making a comeback. And she wants the media to take her seriously. 
This is the same media that dubbed her “Queen of the chavs” back in the days when she rose to fame with the hip-hop group N-Dubz before replacing Cheryl Cole as a judge – and the unofficial title of “the nation’s darling” – on Simon Cowell’s talent show.

I don’t pretend to be an expert on the current state of pop music. I couldn’t tell you whether her new sound is more or less hip-hoppy than before. I understand her new video is a bit on the raunchy side, but aren’t they all these days?

And as for her much-commented-upon new look, well, I feel distinctly unqualified to pass judgement on her lip fillers, her newly-toned abs and whether her black crop top really goes well with the baggy jeans.

But I know classism when I see it.

Classism is the last acceptable prejudice in British society. Racism, sexism, homophobia – all, quite rightly, are frowned upon. But, for some reason, it is okay to – in Tulisa’s words – “rip someone because of where she’s from and the number of tattoos she has”.

In recent months, three other successful working-class women have been targeted by social media trolls for not, er, speaking proper. The brilliant actress Jodie Comer, superb as deadly psychopathic assassin Villanelle in Killing Eve, has been mocked for her Scouse accent.

Shadow Education Secretary Angela Rayner has written about the snobbery of posh sketch writers, one of whom denounced her as a character straight out of Little Britain.

And Sky News’ political editor Beth Rigby has been told, repeatedly, to get elocution lessons.

The government’s own Social Mobility Commission revealed a few days ago that its failures in education and employment policies had caused class privilege to become even more established.

This despite Theresa May pledging to tackle the “burning injustice” of social stagnation when she became prime minister almost three years ago. According to the report, inequality in Britain was now “entrenched from birth to work”, with working class people in professional jobs earning a fifth less than their more privileged colleagues.

The arts are a case in point. Last year, another study concluded that the music industry, like the worlds of film, publishing TV and radio, was over-represented by white middle-class men.

“Aside from crafts,” it noted, “no creative occupation comes close to having a third of its workforce from working-class origins, which is the average for the population as a whole.”

As Guardian columnist Suzanne Moore wrote: “Having spoken about her upbringing in a council flat, Tulisa has been branded by the media as a chav and therefore almost anything can be said about her… if she were middle class, she wouldn’t face such scorn”.

I won’t be rushing to buy her new single but I do admire the way Contostavlos has overcome adversity. She is ridiculed for such “brash” behaviour as wearing too much make-up, enjoying cheap manicures and generally not knowing her place.

She will continue, no doubt, to be tabloid fodder but she must never apologise for coming from Camden, for having to arm herself with baseball bats and knives as a child and for being the victim of a newspaper sting operation.

I was very moved by Theresa May’s 2016 speech outside Downing Street, when she declared she wanted “a country where it’s your talent and hard work that matter, not where you were born, who your parents are or what your accent sounds like”.

Tulisa, who has turned down every reality or talent show she’s been offered during her absence from the spotlight, is the perfect example of the triumph of talent and hard work.