Amanda Platell on...

I must declare an interest in the John Redwood and Nikki Page story. Nikki is a friend of mine. I have known her for nearly five years, from when I started working for William Hague a couple of years before the 2001 election. We hit it off immediately in the dusty world of Tory politics: neither of us had blue hair and we were both under 70.

She is also friendly, fun, loyal, smart and proved to be a fine partner for a spot of retail therapy when everything seemed hopeless; which was often.

The person I have been reading about over the past few days in connection with the break-up of John Redwood's marriage is none of these things. That woman is a spoilt, rich, stupid, opportunistic home-wrecker and - sin of all sins in the hallowed world of politics - gorgeous.

In Westminster, if you're not plain talking and even plainer looking, you're branded either a tart or totty. If it's a sin to be glamorous, then Nikki Page is guilty. If it's a sin to be born with a perfect size 10 figure and to look better at 51 than most of us do at 40, then she's guilty too. If it's a sin to like stilettos, then half the female population is guilty too.

I am also a fan of John Redwood. He is clever and committed, a traditional Tory who believes in marriage, even when his wife of 20-plus years said she wanted out, as Gail Redwood did. I know this because I know John. He called after the Christmas break and asked me for lunch on 5 February.

He is not a man to show his emotions, but that day he was very sad indeed. His wife had left him. She had been deeply unhappy for a long time. Even her close friends now talk openly about the deep depression that has debilitated her for years. He was too loyal to mention that. There was no chance of a reconciliation, he said. Gail had even taken their beloved cats. By April, at his wife's insistence, the financial deal was enacted.

So it was with incredulity that I read the stories at the weekend that he had abandoned his wife and set up home with Nikki. You only need to scratch the surface of these people to realise they are what we used to call decent.

John was devastated by the break-up of his marriage. The only people who knew at that time, apart from his family, were key members of his constituency. He is a private man and an honest one.

But the cruellest criticism, as ever, has been reserved for "the other woman". What really gets me about the unattributed attacks on Nikki is that they're just wrong. I have never seen her in "see-through skirts" or in "thigh-high dominatrix boots".

The comment that she is "the kind of woman other women hate" could only have been made by a man, and a misogynist at that. What he really means is he feels threatened by strong, attractive women. Nikki is a woman's woman. She has more girlfriends than Steve Norris.

And the charge that she "had her eye on the main chance", dumped her husband of 20 years and jumped in the moment Redwood's marriage ended is laughable. One look at her and you know, captivating as John Redwood is, she could have cast her net wider than the world of Westminster.

Their first date was a concert at Hampton Court in June, several months after Nikki's marriage had ended. Despite the inevitable cynicism and a world where fidelity means little to many, I can tell you it means a lot to them.

A couple of weeks ago I went to Lord's with John and Nikki. He's a big cricket fan. I remember thinking then how terrific this would be for both of them if it worked out and what a great team they would make, driven by the same passions and compassion, a belief that you can still make a difference in politics.

But I was uneasy about them being seen out together. John's typically straightforward response was that they wanted to be honest and open. As two separated people they had nothing to hide, he said.

Tony and Caroline Benn, Margaret and Denis Thatcher, Michael Foot and Jill Craigie, Neil and Glenys Kinnock - we have a fine tradition of political couplings in this country. They won't thank me for saying it, but with a little less scepticism and a fair wind behind them, perhaps Nikki Page and John Redwood could be among them.

More gloss for Cherie

The sight of Cherie Blair sitting on the edge of the matrimonial bed offering her lips up to Carole Caplin to be glossed did that which I thought impossible - it made me feel sorry for her. Only days after her husband and various Cabinet ministers had called for an end to the spin and the gloss, there she was in the first of a series of glossy magazine articles trying to spin us a line.

The Caplin-inspired PR assault to win the hearts and minds of the British people is a terrible mistake. The truth is, Cherie, we'd like you a lot more if we saw a lot less of you.

Ali's no Superman

I knew it was all over for Alastair Campbell when I saw him leaving his home around the corner the other day with his sports shirt tucked into his jog pants.

He wouldn't have been out of place queuing in a benefits office in Birkenhead, or is that just wishful thinking? When the man who destroyed John Major's credibility by revealing the Prime Minister tucked his shirt into his underpants loses sight of the danger of middle-aged tucking, it's time to move on.

Beware the groom wedded to his dolls

Despite their £2.5 million celebrity wedding, at which at least some of the guests had a passing acquaintance with the couple, Liza Minnelli and David Gest have separated after 16 months of marriage. May I now add to my list of danger signs for anyone contemplating matrimony a groom's extensive collection of Judy Garland dolls.