POOR Kate Winslet. Horrid people keep saying nasty things about her, like she’s... and readers of a sensitive disposition are advised to look away now... middle class!

How dare they! What a vile slur upon a privately-educated humble actress, having to scrape by on an estimated $12m a year.

Why, she’s so working class she only has homes in Britain and America. And when she was growing up her family could only afford to spend holidays in Cornwall. Poor things.

Come off it, Kate. This is even sillier than Monty Python’s Four Yorkshiremen sketch (“I were so poor I had to get up at six every morning, eat a crust of stale bread, work down t’mill 14 hours a day for sixpence a week”... “Luxury!”) Try telling the kids of today, though, that Kate’s had it tough... and they’ll probably buy into it.

Because in this X-Factor-ised society, where everyone seems to be on “a journey”, it’s not what you do, it’s what you say that matters If you’re a celebrity love cheat, for example, it’s not your fault. Either your mate Max Clifford will keep it out of the papers, or, if you’re unlucky enough to be found out, then, hey, you’re yet another victim of sex addiction.

The stiff upper lip has been replaced by the one below it, trembling, self-pityingly.

To be a winner you have to overcome adversity. And if you’ve had a fairly comfortable life – like 99.9 per cent of those of us fortunate enough to have been born in Britain since the Second World War – well, simply make up a reason to feel sorry for yourself.

In reality, there isn’t really an old-fashioned proletariat any more – not since the mines, shipyards and steel-works were shut in the ’70s and ’80s.

There are people in work, and an increasing number out of work, but class warfare is very much a thing of the past.

George Orwell’s romanticised vision of the working class doesn’t wash any more, and I’ve always struggled with films like Billy Elliott and Educating Rita and their patronising view of “ordinary” people.

Probably the most nauseating sight on TV in the past year – and there have been plenty – was professional working-class whinger John Prescott flaunting that giant chip on his downtrodden shoulder.

They’re Beauty and the Beast, all right, Winslet and Prescott, but in their world the fairytale will never have a happy ending.

They protest too much, plainly failing to realise is that if you have to bang on about your working class credentials, then you don’t have them any more... or never had them in the first place.