It’s Liz’s birthday and there’s nothing she’d like more than to be walking into a hotel room and finding a bottle of champagne, and a man (both sweating lightly) - but instead, the only emails she’s got are one from a tandoori restaurant and one from her printer saying it can’t connect to the Wi-Fi. Meanwhile, Liz is trying to book tickets for herself (and reader Cheryl) for the front row at the fashion shows, but the whole fashion industry seems to have turned its back on her - is it all down to what she said 20 years ago?

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