SARAH VINE: At 57, I’ve by no means felt more healthy. My secret? Ozempic.

At the age of 57, when most women are starting to suffer the effects of ageing, I can honestly say I feel happier and healthier than I ever did in my forties. Possibly even my thirties.

I’m no longer permanently exhausted. I don’t wake up in the morning after ten hours in bed feeling I could use another ten.

I don’t fall asleep in the afternoons. Climbing stairs doesn’t leave my knees in agony.

I can’t remember the last time I had a sniffle. I happily cycle to and from the office (admittedly it’s only about three miles).

My mental health is better, too. The self-loathing that has dogged me for years has, if not silenced, been reduced to a whisper. I no longer look in the mirror and hate my body.

This summer, I took up swimming again after years of being too ashamed of my shape to wear a bathing costume.

I even bought a pair of jeans – the first since my twenties.

The source of this renewed enthusiasm for life? Pilates? HRT? Divorce? A new boyfriend?

None of the above. It’s Ozempic.

A raft of new studies into the effects of semaglutide (the generic name for such jabs) shows it has ‘far-reaching benefits’ beyond what doctors initially imagined.

It can help with heart failure, kidney disease, high blood pressure – and even improves outcomes among Covid sufferers by 34 per cent.

In particular, there is strong evidence it slows biological ageing, ‘helping people live longer and better’ and leading to suggestions that scientists might have stumbled across the much-fabled fountain of youth.

Key is how it reduces inflammation, which is linked to most illnesses of ageing, including cancer, diabetes, dementia and heart disease. The studies found that regardless of how much weight patients lost, they all experienced a reduction in inflammation.

Inevitably, there’s been a backlash against semaglutide, most commonly sold as Ozempic or Wegovy, and those, like me, who use it.

People say: ‘It’s a cop out. You’re cheating, etc, etc.’ I honestly don’t care. Be as judgmental as you want: no amount of disapproval can refute that since taking it, I’ve felt a million times better. I started Ozempic long before most people had heard of it. In 2018, having lost nearly two stone and put it back on (for about the millionth time), I decided enough was enough.

As well as being fully menopausal, I had an underactive thyroid and other autoimmune problems. I was unable to control my weight, my joints felt on fire and I was struggling to focus. I hated myself for being such a useless, fat failure. When my doctor warned that I was pre-diabetic, I knew I had to get a grip. Not having the willpower to stick to his recommended 1,200-calorie-a-day regime, I needed help.

So I decided to get a gastric band. A friend had one, and while not without challenges, it had produced the desired result.

She mentioned her consultant, Professor Marcus Reddy, and I booked an appointment.

I’d walked into his clinic in July 2018 weighing almost 15st. He explained that a new drug from America had just been licensed in the UK, and that it worked ‘like a chemical gastric band’.

He started me on liraglutide, the precursor to semaglutide.

Not long after, the weekly jab was approved, and I switched to that. I’ve never looked back.

Five years on, I’m now on a maintenance dose. My weight has been stable at around 12st for a long time, and that’s great for my 5ft 8in height. I could probably lose more if I upped my dose, but I’m happy (and grateful) at this size. What’s remarkable, though, are the changes people can’t see.

Because of my thyroid, but also as I’m on semaglutide, I have twice-yearly blood tests. They’ve shown marked improvements in all areas.

With the drug, the likelihood of me costing the NHS a small fortune in a few years’ time has significantly reduced. We’re lucky in my family: there’s not much cancer, but there’s an awful lot of cardiovascular disease.

It has also helped me be more active again, since the debilitating pain I had in my joints when I exercised has subsided thanks not only to me being lighter, but also because of the effects of reduced inflammation.

Contrary to what people say, I still enjoy my food; I just don’t take a bath in it any more. Or spend half the morning thinking about lunch.

Semaglutide has genuinely given me a new lease of life, and now – thanks to all these studies – I know why. It’s time people stopped dismissing such treatments as a fast fix for fatties or a vanity drug for celebrities; and recognised that, properly prescribed, they could transform thousands of lives for the better.

The unspoken reason why the Left will never condemn this orgy of violence 

Each year, violence at the Notting Hill Carnival claims lives. Each year, people such as me write articles calling for the authorities to take steps to make the event safer. 

Each year, we get told by the likes of London mayor Sadiq Khan that it’s a ‘cultural’ event so any attempt to curtail it is inherently racist.

And so each year nothing gets done, and it’s the same the following year: people get stabbed, slashed, shot, robbed, sexually assaulted.

It’s not only a cycle of violence, but spectacular stupidity, and the kind of blinkered political correctness that is both counterproductive, and this year has cost lives.

This madness must stop. If any other event of this kind had such a death toll, it would have been banned years ago. That it is not, is an insult to the memory of the victims, and to their families.

No one doubts that the carnival has a rich cultural heritage. Or that it can be a lot of fun.

But what used to be a genuine street festival, organised by those living in the area for the benefit of the community, has burst its banks.

Now, the local community is subjected to people urinating in doorways and having sex in stairwells, or chucking rubbish in front gardens and leaving drug paraphernalia everywhere.

It costs local businesses a fortune, as they are forced to shut on one of the busiest bank holidays of the year.

And the vast majority of people who attend are not local.

They come in from all corners of the world, and not always with the best intentions. They have no respect for property or for people, and it’s big business for gangs and drug-dealers, who run their feuds and sell their wares with impunity.

This year, eight people were stabbed – and two people have lost their lives.

More than 300 arrests were made; guns were sequestered, knives and other weapons, too. And yet we hear nothing from the Prime Minister and nothing from the mayor of London.

Why? I’ll tell you why. Because it doesn’t suit their narrative to criticise a ‘cultural’ event.

If this festival was organised along different ethnic lines – say, for example, by groups of white football fans, or Morris dancers – they would have no hesitation in shutting it down the second someone even so much as looked sideways at a policeman.

But because its origins are in West Indian culture, it cannot be condemned, even as its victims lie dying in hospital.

What kind of twisted logic is that?

Especially since so many victims, including this year’s fatalities, are themselves of West Indian or African descent, or from other minorities. Don’t they deserve the same protections as everyone else? Of course they do.

It is high time proper controls were put in place to stop this annual carnage.

Perhaps someone sensible such as Sir Trevor Phillips, former chairman of the London Assembly, could be put in charge of a committee to work out the best course of action.

We urgently need a solution that finds a way of preserving the spirit of the carnival while protecting the interests of locals – and, most important of all, the lives of everyone.

Quit whining, Nicole!

Nicole Kidman says her latest role, as a high-flying businesswoman who has a steamy affair with a much younger intern, was her most ‘exposing’ yet, and left her feeling ‘vulnerable’ and ‘ragged’. Oh come on, Nicole. You’re 57, a huge star and with a string of hits. Whatever role you take is your choice. Just take the money and spare us the pearl-clutching.

Despite both attending the church service for Lord Fellowes, Princes Harry and William didn’t say a word to each other. That’s just basic bad manners – and disrespectful to the family and the memory of Lord Fellowes. If the brawling Gallagher brothers can bury the hatchet, surely these two supposedly well-bred aristocrats can, too?

After my ticket ordeal, I’m just not mad for it, Oasis

Yesterday, at stupid o’clock, I tried to buy tickets for Oasis’s reunion tour. 

I was in Ticketmaster’s queue until about 3.30pm, when I finally got access. 

At which point, I was logged out with no explanation. That happened to various friends as well. 

Sorry, Oasis, but I’m done. You were a great band, and I’m still a fan. I am not, however, a complete fool.

My daughter has rescued a kitten. It’s gorgeous, with oversized eyes and huge ears, like a Gremlin. It also behaves like one. Adorable during the day, mayhem after midnight. No soft furnishing is safe. My cat, Cersei, a stately, middle-aged calico, is unimpressed. Imagine a young Liam Gallagher sharing a flat with Hyacinth Bucket. 

Among former Dempsey And Makepeace actress Glynis Barber’s tips for ageing well are ‘ditch the black eyeliner’ (see page 40). Ha! Tell that to Claudia Winkleman. My own tip? If you have dark hair, don’t keep dying it. The colour is too harsh for the softer contours of the older face. Lowlights, or even just your own greys, look much more natural – and are much cheaper.

A woman wheelchair user is threatening to sue Marks & Spencer because its new ‘eco’ fridge cabinet handles are too high for her. I understand this is an inconvenience. But legal action? Can’t she just ask an assistant – or another customer – to help?

Tragic cost of school VAT

One of the more spiteful aspects of Labour’s imposition of VAT on public school fees is that ministers don’t have the decency to wait until the start of the next school year. A friend of mine is having to take her two children out, one of whom has special needs, and there is no alternative as everywhere else is full. So, as well as the trauma of leaving all their friends and made to feel social pariahs, these children will also lose out on their education. How is that fair?