CAROLE Caplin, the lifestyle guru who is supposed to have good taste in everything but men (remember Peter Foster?) has spoken out about her intimate relationship with Cherie Blair.

She has been imparting pearls of wisdom to Cherie on matters ranging from never wearing white with cream, to the way a lady should step out of her car.

I am not at all surprised that poor old Cherie is hooked on consulting little-miss-perfect on every single detail of her life. Ms Caplin is the kind of woman who exists to drive otherwise independent, successful women to the brink of hair-brained insecurity.

By her very trade as a fitness and lifestyle consultant, she is reminding women that they could take so much better care of themselves while they juggle those trifling little matters like high-pressured careers, the family and a myriad social obligations.

They could dress better, eat more healthily, exercise more effectively and organise their cushions feng shui style to impress their husband's colleagues at dinner parties.

By the time a woman's had the costly Caplin treatment, she will be neurotic about everything from her digestive tract to her clogged-up chakras. Luxuries will become absolute necessities and aspects of her life, such as what impression a brown trouser suit will have on the boss compared to the stripy green one, will become all-important.

As if women don't suffer from enough guilt, the ever-smiling, supine beauty Ms Caplin is there to remind us that being a woman in the 21st century was never meant to be fun.

Reading about her company, Life Smart, which is meant to embrace positive thinking, diet, exercise, fashion and home organisation, leaves my inner-self raging to eat kebabs and run around in a glittery boob tube.

Women like her are far to busy grooming themselves to have a good time. How about swapping that weekly wardrobe consultation for a Chinese takeaway and a bottle of plonk, Cherie? I promise it will make you a happier human being.

I WAS sitting on a train the other day when I saw a headline that I immediately connected with. It read: 'Most of us have had an office relationship'.

The article said, because we spend so much time at work, we become fixated on our colleagues and find ourselves in compromising situations in stationery cupboards.

While I am currently not overcoming a traumatic office fling, I do have at least one office crush on the go at any one time. It is partly recreational - having a nice man to gawp at breaks up the day and it also gives you a reason to go to work with tidy hair and high-heeled shoes.

I usually fixate on an executive office member, no matter what he looks like. It is true most women love a man in power, and my own office fantasies have ranged from bosses with sloping shoulders to grisly brutes who 'arrange themself' in front of you.

I currently have a crush on my 50-plus boss who loves country music and smells of tobacco. I throw him the odd, come-hither look over my computer screen when I feel particularly daring. He usually smiles in an avuncular fashion and carries on stroking his bald head. What a dream-boat!