Tuesday, August 24, 2004

Of all the things I’ve written here, one sentence stands out as having provoked more than most.

Speaking on the equality of the sexes, I welcomed the fact that it was a good thing that “women can now get secretarial jobs and listen to Dido”.

A joke, of course. Quite well-constructed, not as good as the Beethoven one that made me snigger for ages (I’m sad like that), and fairly clearly NOT WHAT I SERIOUSLY BELIEVE.

I’d expected a bit of mock feminist outrage in the comments box, but nothing particularly serious. Although as far as I can work out, that post was responsible for my current ‘shortest time on somebody else’s blogroll’ world record. I can only imagine the Daily Mail-esque depths of manufactured McIndignation the new linker concerned must have summoned up in order to decide that this was crap after all, I was a pig, and that she should link to that nice Wil Wheaton instead.

What I hadn’t expected was the wall of heartfelt anti-Dido feeling that hit me.

Dido is the draught of popular music.

That is to say, you’ll be sitting down, quietly reading the paper, doing nobody any harm. And after a while, you’ll realise that something is annoying you.

You can’t quite place it, or its source, but it’s coming from somewhere and causing you a mild irritation.

Then you realise that a Dido track has started playing on the radio.

Why do we hate her so? Why? There are plenty of other purveyors of rubbish out there.

If I knew I’d tell you. Any ideas that aren't mindless abuse?