What a blunder, Kate. You opened your mouth and now the whole world has idiot flu.

We at Hecklerspray, however, can feed our families because you discreetly told a girlie mag that you’re working class. Somehow we can’t see you binge-drinking down the local with a pack of slags or putting mayo on our chips.

You could a buy a couple of chippies for £12 million though, maybe open your own colliery and get Sam Mendes to film your family while they break their backs for minimum wage. Next time you want make a statement, don’t tell Marie Claire – use propaganda. That’s what clever people do.

The 33-year-old actress told Marie Claire that people didn’t believe she was working class because of her accent:

“People don’t believe that. People literally think I’m lying because I speak nice. Honestly, it was hand-me-down shoes and 10p pocket money on a Saturday that didn’t go up until I was 11.”

Why does Winslet feel the need to tell everyone that she’s a lowly born wench, created from the salt of the earth? It doesn’t matter anymore Kate, nobody cares about class. You can’t endear yourself to people by taking to the podium to saying: ‘Look at me. I was like you once!’ And just for the record, most people are working class – It’s not romantic or unique, it’s not ‘cool’ or even worth discussing.

Now watch the actors, footballers and entrepreneurs play the Spartacus game because you didn’t think before you spoke. Paris Hilton is suddenly working class, so are Lindsay Lohan, Sir Alan Sugar, Flava Flav, Kelly Osbourne and Ashley Cole (could you have guessed?).

The actress hails from Maidenhead, Berkshire and comes from an acting family. Her father, Roger John Winslet was a struggling thespian and had to take to conventional work after a boating accident left him disabled. The actor’s charitable trust funded Kate’s (private) education at the Redroofs Theatre school where she was head girl and appeared in a Sugar Puffs advert. She said:

“We had these dreadful second-hand cars that would always die a death, or we’d go on holiday to Cornwall, come back and it would have been nicked. It’s like a Joe Orton farce, my family.”

In a world of child soldiers, exploitation and genocide, there’s nothing more heartbreaking than a child who grows up with an educational bursary and a weekly income. ‘Why do women talk such rubbish?’ you might ask. Furthermore, why do women’s magazines print it? Scientists and criminal psychologists are stumped.

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