Janet Street-Porter is Rufus Hound's subject. She reads from her teenage journals, about being around in Soho in the Sixties. I seem to remember her writing about this time and being particularly vehement about the horrors of her home life, hence her outrageousness. But the thing about Janet is that the older she grows the nicer she gets. In the Seventies she was nakedly ambitious, in the Eighties ruthlessly power-hungry, in the Nineties she sold her fur coats, grew reflective and funnier. Once the century turned she started to become rather enviably sage.