Helen, 28, has some thoughts on Page 3

Women's groups appear at the Leveson inquiry to talk about media sexism.

Woe betide any woman who dares complain about sexism in the media. When Clare Short first protested about Page 3 girls in 1986, she was monstered -- and The Sun was still harassing her a decade and a half later when the subject came up again. In 2003, she recounted in her autobiography, the paper mocked up pictures of her as "a very fat page 3 girl" and sent what it would probably refer to as "scantily clad lovelies" to the house she shared with her 84-year-old mother. "It is hard not to conclude that The Sun sets out to frighten anyone who might dare to agree that such pictures should be removed from newspapers," she wrote.

Nearly another decade on, and representatives from four women's groups appeared at the Leveson Inquiry into press standards and ethics to talk about how much things had changed. (Joke!)

Their testimony made for depressing viewing: Page 3 girls are cutesy cheesecake compared with the "upskirt shots" and "nipple slips" that hordes of photographers follow young women round in the hope of capturing for today's papers and celebrity websites.

Google (if you dare) the final edition of the Daily Sport from April, where the entire front page is taken up with a borderline gynaecological view of Cheryl Cole taken by the paper's "dwarf paparazzo" Pete. The Sport might have gone the way of the dodo but its approach to female celebrity genitalia (ie to be as close as possible to them, preferably with a wide-angle lens) lives on in a dozen celebrity websites with charming names such as Drunken Stepfather.

The Daily Mail's website, meanwhile, is a vast, teetering edifice of wardrobe malfunctions and women "flaunting their bikini bodies", even as the paper itself gets its chastity belt in a twist over "X Factor raunch" and Irene Adler in the nip on Sherlock.

Of course, it's not just a few jaunty nipples: it's a pervasive press culture where women are routinely naked, their bodies pored over, found wanting, and put up for grabs as a subject for public discussion. You can't escape by dressing sensibly: only this week, a photograph of Theresa May in a sober skirt and jacket was reproduced alongside an article which wondered how she could be taken seriously while going for a "cover girl look".

One of the most astonishing lines to come out of Leveson was that the evidence offered - from British papers, available at your friendly local newsagent alongside the fruit pastilles - was censored by the inquiry lawyers, so explicit were its depictions of women. You certainly wouldn't want to open that front page of the Sport on your monitor at work -- it's so NSFW I haven't linked to it -- so god knows how parents felt hustling their children past it on the news stand.

One of the suggestions made, by Anna Van Heeswijk of Object, was that the papers should observe some form of watershed, in the same way that broadcasters do (almost all British newspapers and magazines get very f***ing queasy about bad language, after all).

While there might need to be allowances made for images with significant news value - I'm thinking of the pictures of a dead Colonel Gaddafi, which proved the tyrant was toppled - there's a germ of a good idea there: and although the Sun might squeal, how could the Mail object? Or, as the supremely patronising News in Briefs column might put it: "Helen, 28, from London, thinks that if you're going to complain about tits on telly, you shouldn't be allowed to use them to flog your paper."

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

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Is the French Left having its Jeremy Corbyn moment?

Benoit Hamon won the first round of the Socialist party's presidential primaries. 

Has the French Left taken a Corbynite turn? That's certainly the verdict of many after the first round of the French Socialist Party's primary.

In first place is Benoit Hamon, who quit Francois Hollande's government over its right turn in 2014, and counts the adoption of a universal basic income, the legalisation of cannabis and the right to die among his policy proposals, with 36 per cent of the vote.

In second place and facing an uphill battle to secure the nomination is Manuel Valls, the minister who more than any other symbolized the rightward lurch of Hollande's presidency, with 31 per cent. That of the five eliminated candidates - under the French system, if no candidate secures more than half of the vote, the top two go through to a run-off round - only one could even arguably be said to be closer to Valls than Hamon shows the struggle he will have to close the gap next weekend. And for a variety of reasons, even supporters of his close ally Sylvia Pinel may struggle to put a tick in his box. 

Still, Valls clearly believes that electability is his best card, and he's compared Hamon to Corbyn, who "chose to remain in opposition". Also making the Hamon-Corbyn comparison is most of the British press and several high-profile activists in the French Republican Party.

Is it merited? The differences are probably more important than the similarities: not least that Hamon served as a minister until 2014, and came up through the backrooms. In terms of the centre of gravity and the traditions of his party, he is much closer in analogue to Yvette Cooper and Andy Burnham than he is to Jeremy Corbyn, though Corbynistas and Hamonites bear a closer resemblance to one another than their leaders to.

What will give heart to the leader's office is that Hamon surged in the polls after each debate, when his ideas were given a bigger platform. But what will alarm everyone in Labour is the French Socialists' poll ratings - they are expected to get just 6 per cent in the elections. (And before you scoff at the polls, it's worth noting that they have, so far, performed admirably in the French electoral cycle, picking up on the lightning rise of both Hamon and Francois Fillon.)

That attests to something it's easy to forget in Westminster, where we tend to obsess over the United States and ignore politics on the Continent, despite the greater commonalities: throughout Europe, social democratic parties are in a fight for their lives, no matter if they turn to the left or the right.

The Democrats, in contrast, won the presidential election by close to three million votes and lost due to the electoral college. They have good prospects in the midterm elections and their greatest threat is gerrymandering and electoral malfeasance. But absent foul play, you'd have to be very, very brave to bet on them going extinct.

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to British politics.