When in doubt, the answer is always Stevie Wonder

Can I get an "Amen"?

I hate “Christian music.” There, I’ve said it.

I hasten to add, I don’t hate ALL Christian music. I love proper gospel (not tuneless screeching, mind) and even the plain vanilla soft rock style that characterises most of this music has occasionally made enjoyable listening.

What really gets on my nerves, though, is the cynicism running through this lucrative industry. Some smart people have worked out that there is a little gap in the music industry which any old crap can squeeze through – as long as it’s “Christian”. The people involved know full well that what they're producing would never see the light of day if it was released in the normal, or as they call it, “secular” channels of the music business.

Of course, if it’s so bad that it actually slips into “audibly dreadful even to Christian ears that never hear popular music” territory, their defence will be “But actually, it’s all about the worship.” I used to go to a church which hosted many of the biggest writers and performers of Christian music, and thus felt almost guilty about their musical pedigree. But if it was really *just* about the worship, they’d have let me get up on stage and bang a triangle. Why not, if that was the expression of my heart? The fact that triangles remained undinged is the proof that at least a little bit of the worship sessions had to be dictated by the quality of performance. 

I don’t mean to have a pop at people who genuinely do wish to write meaningful songs which can then be released into the world so that others can find them helpful. Of course, it’s natural that those people who are massively talented should be given a role where they can use their gifts. I just resent the insistence that we're not allowed to judge them on musical merit, and if we voice any dislike, we are somehow betraying Jesus. 

There is some great Christian music out there – Audio Adrenaline and YFriday are just two of the contemporary bands who can stand alongside any mainstream group without needing to fall back on any weak defences. In the US especially, spiritual music spans many genres; so why are those compilation albums always so slavishly similar? 

(A popular worship leader once wrote that the Christian music album of “The most powerful worship songs ever!” was a bit cheeky and who were we to dictate which songs were most likely to get to God? You guessed it, none of his songs had made the cut. He did, however, have no complaints when his works was included on another album, the title of which was something along the lines of “Best worship songs ever.”)

I hate the way that Christian music doesn’t “count” if it isn’t the same bland type as all the others. One time the music group (in the church I mentioned earlier) played in a “country style.” The leader was furious and inevitably admonished the band with “It’s not a performance”. It was as if country music was somehow not as holy as rock. Why is a skiffle beat sinful? 

(While we’re on the subject, why are the really hard core “I hate god” bands always heavy/ death metal? How come you never get any easy listening bands called nunslaughter? Just wondering.)

If you ask a “Christian musician” why they don’t release music into the mainstream charts, the standard line is that they feel they are best serving the Christian market. A cynic might suggest that they like being a big fish in a small pond and they’re too mediocre to make it out there anyway. 

Some Christian acts get into the charts after prolonged internet campaigns in which Christians are pressured to support their “brothers” by buying and promoting their music, no matter how rubbish they think it is. Wouldn’t it be better if nobody bought music for any other reason than LIKING it? Do those bands a favour and refuse to give them a leg up. Force them to raise their game. In the long run, they will be happier, and so will our ears. 

In the meantime, if you're tired of breathy proclamations that God is “marvellous”, and album covers in which singers look away from the camera in a wistful, humble manner, there are numerous other gifted musicians who manage to incorporate Christianity into their art without 16 choruses of “na na na na...”  (You may need to have attended church in the 90s to really “get” my pain here.) 

You might like the following songs (which are unlikely to ever get played in church).

• See Me Through, by Ida Maria:  With a gentle chorus of “Oh God, I can’t believe in you... because I’m afraid you’re true,” this song might tug at your most cynical heartstrings.

• This Little Light of Mine. As far as I know, Joss Stone has no intention of releasing a gospel album, but she does us proud with this toe tapping duet with Buick Audra.

• Lauryn Hill’s “Unplugged” album, in its entirety.  She may have a slightly screwy life, but this girl can sing. And preach. All at the same time.

• Wayfaring Stranger, by Eva Cassidy or Jamie Woon. Although pretty much everyone has covered this classic, Eva’s note perfect rendition embodies spiritual passion.  

• Nobody’s Fault but Mine: Another standard covered by everyone from Blind Willie Johnson to (the fantastic) Sean Pinchin. Michael J. Sheehy and Beth Rowley have produced particularly good versions.

• Good old Christina Aguilera has made some forays into gospel (when she isn’t inviting you to put your lips on her hips) and Mercy on Me and Makes Me Wanna Pray are up there with Aretha.

• “Are you lonely up there all by yourself?” asks Kelly Clarkson in the somewhat heartrending Irvine. If she’d been around 2,000 years ago, surely this would have been added into Lamentations?

• The wonderful world of country music has many excellent tunes (the soundtrack for O Brother Where Art Thou proves this, yes?) and if you’re looking for an easy bridge from pop; Carrie Underwood and Miranda Lambert are your answer. (Particularly the latter’s Heart Like Mine.)

• Candi Staton (whose career began in gospel circles) has been bringing the word "saviour" onto the dance floor since the 80s – now I Got the Love has been given a boost by covers from Florence and the Machine and Joss Stone (again). 

• U2 have managed to straddle the secular and the religious pop worlds for some time, as has young Stacie Orrico, with three studio albums artfully mixing the two. 

• Macy Gray's Minnie Mouse vocals are mostly associated with late 90s pop, but "I'm looking forward to the day I die, Oh my lord, I can't wait to meetchu" is not really one for Top of the pops.

• Janis Joplin throaty cries of "Work Me Lord" are as heartfelt as any chorus of "Shine, Jesus shine". 

• I first came across Ain't No Grave (gonna hold my body down) on the brilliant True Blood. (Obviously the meaning becomes a little different when applied to vampires, but don't get me started on the spiritual symbolism of being dead for three days and emerging as an immortal being, we'd be here for weeks.) I particularly like Vanessa Torres' earthy folk version of this traditional gospel song.

This is just a teensy handful of the most unchurchy "Spiritual" tunes around; let's not forget that the soul star Al Green actually runs a church in Memphis, and hey, as long as there's money to be made from Christmas albums, there will always be a carol sung by a boyband in the offing. 

Traditional blues and gospel are virtually inseparable, growing as they did from the same origins. Even if you're not a fan, it's worth checking out sometimes just for the amusing names – Better Git it in Your Soul Charles Mingus) and the cheery Just As Well Get Ready, You Got to Die by Blind Willie McTell. Unbeknownst to me, Mahalia Jackson is considered one of the best gospel vocalists EVAH. (If you thought Mariah had lungs – check this lady out. You could also do a lot worse than checking out Pearly Brown of You're Gonna Need That Pure Religion fame. Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles are also deservedly well known as gospel and soul virtuosos.

If you're still looking for inspiration I would definitely recommend the Bible-story-inspired folk of Sufjan Stevens, the old-school gospelly blues of Eric Bibb and the inspirational lyrics of Alicia Keys. 

And if all else fails, just listen to the dynamism of Jerry Lee Lewis's When the saints go marching in  and then try to sit through Generic Worship Vol 12. Bet you can't do it.  

  

Give in to your animal instincts

Raging at film crew and ("allegedly") assaulting his mother: we all know  how Christian Bale gets when he's angry – but what's the betting that someone will be "surprised" next time he gets violent? They need this book....

"The louder he talked of his honour, the faster we counted our spoons." 
 Ralph Waldo Emerson 

I had to buy The Gift of Fear after reading numerous recommendations on the etiquettehell forum, of all places. The ladies there would occasionally ask "Was I rude to snub that guy that I found incredibly creepy?" and the answer always came "Safety trumps etiquette."

Author Gavin De Becker is a security expert who runs a consulting firm which advises on situations that might escalate to violence. In other words, if you are the President and a would-be assassin is stalking you, he can tell you the signs which point to needing a bullet proof vest or a one way ticket to Hawaii.

The premise of his book that we all have the ability to keep ourselves safe – it's called intuition. But if you're the sort who scoffs at airy-fairy "feelings," you'll be relieved to know that those hunches aren't necessarily anything mystical. Analysing gut feelings with the benefit of hindsight, you will probably discover that there were plenty of little reasons why you actually "knew" something.

He points out that phrases like "all of a sudden" and "out of the blue" are largely meaningless, a part of the "myth" that predicting human behaviour isn't possible. He points out that "to successfully navigate through morning traffic, we make amazingly accurate high-stakes predictions about the behaviour of literally thousands of people."

Also, "the human violence we abhor and fear the most, that which we call "random" and "senseless" is neither." He argues that while we prefer to think of psychopathic killers as being totally removed from humanity, it's their very humanness which is the key to understanding them. We're not so different under the surface; most people will admit that they could be pressed into violence if a loved one was threatened. Therefore we are all capable of violence – depending on the circumstances.

He complains about the stupidity of those ubiquitous media quotes such as "neighbours describe the killer as a shy man who kept to himself", which implies that apparent normalcy is actually a pre-incident indicator for abhorrent crime. (All it really means is that the neighbours had nothing helpful or relevant to say, but they got quoted anyway.)

Knowing our natural desire to be polite and see the best in people, he describes key signs to look out for in the kind of dodgy geezers that set off your creep-o-meter. Wisely, he asserts that "no animal in the wild, suddenly overcome with fear, would spend any of its mental energy thinking "It's probably nothing". We, in contrast to every other creature in nature, choose not to explore – and even to ignore – survival signals."

Among many points, he includes: 

• Forced teaming: the kind of person who wants to make you feel "we're in the same boat".

• Charm: ask yourself why they are trying to charm you.

• Too many details: beware the person who talks too much and answers questions you haven't yet asked.

• Typecasting: sometimes men will use truly pathetic lines like "you look like the kind of woman who is too snobbish to talk to me." (To which the answer of course would be "that's funny, you look like the kind of man who makes lame attempts to manipulate women into talking to you.")

• Loan sharking: forcing you to accept a favour, eg carrying your bags.

•  The unsolicited promise: "I'll just come in for a minute then I'll go, I promise." Why does this person need to convince you?

• Discounting the word "No" – We've all had the person who "insists" that we accept a lift home / a second drink / the book we expressed an interest in. While most of the time, people's overbearing attitudes are harmless, they all have one thing in common; they refuse to accept the word "no."

(And if I may add one of my own – men who tell you "I'm a gentleman". Run fast, run far. It's like wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with the word "Sexy". If it were true, you wouldn't need to say it.)

Some of the stories actually resonated with me; a while ago I was introduced to a guy who was a friend of a friend, within a few minutes I was thinking "This guy's got "stalker" written all over him", and I avoided the exchange of phone numbers. When I bumped into him a month or so later in town, he took it upon himself to accompany me to the supermarket, where the only way I could get rid of him was stopping dead, doing a lot of "Well, this is where I get off," and refusing his offers of help to "carry your bags," until he went away. Now if I ever happen to see him (ah, the perils of living in a small town) I actually find my adrenaline starts pumping and my instinct is to run away. Reading this book made my otherwise irrational fear make sense; I don't actually believe he is dangerous, but I do believe that if I'd given him any encouragement whatsoever, I would never be able to get rid of him.

I was especially interested to see that insisting on "helping" is a common theme; saying no to help seems rude – and making people (especially women) feel guilty enough to give in is key. On the flipside of the "helping" theme, serial killer Ted Bundy wore a fake cast on his arm or leg, and would approach women and ask them for help loading something into his car. (Wouldn't you feel like a heel if you said "No" to some poor guy with a broken arm?) 

Even if the little voice in your head is screaming that something doesn't feel right, sometimes it's very hard to extricate yourself from a situation without feeling horribly rude, especially if you don't have time to think through your reaction. Better rude than dead, though.

Intuition knows more about the situation than we are consciously aware of. For instance, maybe the guy checking you out in the car park as you unpack your groceries is giving you the creeps because you noticed him (in your peripheral vision) in the shop, getting close to you just a few too many times to be coincidental.

There are slightly more boring chapters on "high-stakes predictions, " for instance, the signs that a mad gunman might go on the rampage, among them "perceived justification, alternatives, ability and consequences" (In a nutshell, if he feels like he's been wronged, has no other options, can hit the target and can live with the police on his tail.)

There are also chapters on stalkers and assassins, and why restraining orders can do more harm than good, as they engage with the stalker and possibly provide the victim with a false sense of security.

De Becker unashamedly focuses on giving advice to women, warning that "spousal homicide is the single most predictable serious crime in America". While we've all read the usual magazine fodder on signs that your boyfriend is a bad 'un, (seriously, who would think it was a good sign when a guy says "you don't need other friends, you've got me"?) Gavin has some more interesting hints, such as a man who identifies with violent people in films, news, or fiction, and dislikes change or is unable to compromise.

He also touches on violent children and describes case studies in which authority figures have held up their hands and said "How could we possibly have known?" and said that actually, the actions were predictable, if only anyone had been paying attention.

He points out that often, dark humour can be very telling. The prime example being  people who've said "Hey, I'm not opening that package, it's probably a bomb". When someone else does open it, turns out they were right. This is because humour is "a common way to communicate true concern without the risk of feeling silly afterward".

De Becker also elaborates on how Hollywood has encouraged stalking behaviour with the formula "Boy Wants Girl, Girl Doesn't Want Boy, Boy Persists and Harasses Girl, Boy Gets Girl" and points out that when women are the pursuers (think Fatal Attraction) they are seen for the loonies that they are.

He takes a tough love approach to domestic violence, saying "I believe that the first time a woman is hit, she is a victim, and the second time, she is a volunteer," and emphasises that "staying is a choice". Harsh words, but I would say that they are ultimately empowering. Believing it's possible for a man to change overnight from a big old pussycat into a cruel control freak is terrifying, because it suggests that the behaviour is impossible to predict. There has to be a first time for violence, but there WILL have been clues along the way. It's just that sometimes it's easier to ignore signs than face up to what they might come to mean.

I think it's possible that domestic violence could be reduced dramatically if this book was taught in schools. It won't change violent people, but it could help to inform potential victims about the danger signals and type of partners they should avoid.

Evidently, we're all capable of reading other people; it's what we're designed to do. We've been analysing each other and making predictions and conclusions about each other for thousands of years, we should be pretty good at it by now. By trusting your "caveman brain" you can tap into knowledge you didn't know you had.

The book can be a little dry in places; we're given a lot of detail on some historical cases and why assassins struck, and a fair bit of advice for bosses of large corporations. Whereas I think I speak for all of us when I say we want more juicy stories about would-be attackers being foiled by someone's intuition.

The website https://www.gavindebecker.com/ also has some useful and interesting info on how dangerous the world may or may not be – including a guide to de-coding the scaremongering style of news reports. 

The overall message is reassuring; trusting your intuition is the opposite of living in fear, as it eliminates all that unnecessary worry.

This book is a must read; I devoured it in a couple of days and have been recommending it to everyone. However, I must warn you that by the end of it you may feel tempted to actively seek out creepy people just so that you can yell "No is a complete sentence!" in their faces.

You just don't understand!

She may be dating a vampire, but she's always polite to her dad.

Jan Moir, that paragon of thoughtful and concise writing, has now volunteered her half-baked opinions on the Twilight franchise. No doubt striking fear into the hearts of teenage girls and their parents, she described fans as “tapping away on computers, unable to communicate with their own families.” (All together now, “What an interesting assumption.”)

She also describes the films as “rubbish,” and Bella is the “glum trophy” in the love triangle with vampire Edward and wolfy shapeshifter Jacob. She also claims that Bella’s final decision is “a straightforward choice between necrophilia and bestiality.”

I hate to sound like a sulky teenager here, but.... she just doesn’t get it!  

Bella is a normal teen, albeit a thoughtful and mature one. Dressed in jeans and plaid shirts, she is the antithesis of the kind of glossy blonde cheerleaders spending their parents' money on MTV's My Super Sweet Sixteen. While Jan Moir bemoans the loss of Saturday Night Fever and Grease as wholesome entertainment for youngsters, she completely misses the point that, far from transforming her wardrobe and personality in an attempt to attract the school hunk à la Sandy, Bella wins Edward’s heart by being herself. 

The beauty of the Twilight stories is that they're not really about vampires. This is merely a plot device which provides a Romeo and Juliet “This can never be,” element to the books as well as plenty of life-threatening moments in which Edward can be heroic and Bella can faint upon his manly chest. 

Silly old Jan gets confused again when she claims that Bella “takes part in a scene that depicts self-harming as a noble act of sacrifice.” Does she really believe that teenagers are so stupid that they cannot see the difference between self-harm, and battle strategy? (Or is she deliberately misinterpreting events in order to generate more eye-catching headlines about the film? Surely not.) 

The “third wife” story describes the woman who singlehandedly saves the entire Quileute tribe by stabbing herself to distract the vampire trying to destroy her family. Bella is the only non-supernaturally blessed person involved in the current battle; given her general tendency to put others before herself (yet another bad example to teens, tut tut) is it surprising that she would try to defend her loved ones by emulating the story of the nameless woman?  

But winner of “Most stupid interpretation of a book, ever,” goes to Jan’s assertation that Bella “wants to be dead for ever in Edward’s arms, which could be interpreted as an allegory for suicide.” Yes, but it is far more likely to be taken as proof that your reading skills do not extend to whole books, even those meant for teens.  

Far from being fodder for emos, the Twilight books are modern fairy tales which celebrate love, family, chastity, and taking the right path instead of the easy one.

What some would dismiss as puppy love leads to marriage, and a future in which a quiet, clumsy girl with no discernable talents will find that she holds the key to protecting the much stronger members of her new, immortal tribe. But that is another story.

The ones that end "Love you! XOXO" are the worst

 You know when you complain about your housemates to your friends and they say “Why don’t you write them a note asking them to stop eating your food / taking all the toilet roll / making unearthly noises at 3am?” Don’t. It will end up on passiveaggressivenotes.com, a hilarious website which contains every carefully barbed email and pointed post-it. I really should send them the note below (complete with the obligatory multiple exclamation marks) from Maletti’s, the pizza / pasta cafe where all the trendy media people buy their (rationed) carbs.

There is a funnier one by the till (it threatens being “humiliated by staff” if you dare brandish a phone), but I’m too scared to take a picture in case they throw me out. The day I manage to get a sneaky snap, I will mount it on the wall like a 10ft swordfish. 

A while ago I decided to close down a bank account I no longer needed, unfortunately on a day when the printer was misbehaving. Being loath to waste paper (I’m a big fan of trees) I sent the letter despite the smudgy ink stains along one side. I have no desire to impress a bank, after all. (And I am the kind of lazy person who can’t see the point of messing about with different fonts, lining things up and printing out numerous copies of something that could just as easily be scribbled with marker pen.) 

It took them a while to get their little butts in gear – when I called them to ask why the account was still open, the young man in the call centre suggested it would be “much easier” if I went into a branch to deal with it. What, easier than sitting around in my PJs and picking up the telephone? But many weeks later, they wrote to confirm that the account was no more. The HILARIOUS thing was, the letter was decorated with smudges, making it remarkably similar to the one I sent them. (And no, they weren’t recycling.) 

Passive aggressive? Or did somebody there just have a great sense of humour? It must have taken them ages to get those ink marks just right! 

However it came to be, it made my day. Thanks, Santander! 

I leave you with this slightly fatalistic sign I happened upon in an office; I like the matter of fact attitude. Who needs change when you can have acceptance, hmm?

When foot in mouth disease flares up....

Oh Kim Kardashian, you may have the face of an angel and the curves of a runaway train, but you do say some silly things.

I am a huge fan of etiquettehell.com a website with incredible stories of everyday rudeness; a place where you can learn appropriate responses to inappropriate observations (the catch all phrase being “What an interesting assumption,”) as well as enjoy “Oh no she di’n’t!” calibre stories. 

I have noticed lately that men seem to have forgotten that “How old are you?” is one of those questions you must never ask a lady. (And if they’re not sure whether or not you are a lady, a knuckle sandwich should help them out.) Age now seems to be their first enquiry, closely followed by “Who do you live with?” which I now realise is what’s considered a “subtle” alternative to asking if you are single. One guy even followed this up (in the space of about three minutes) by asking about my last relationship. What else do you want to know, how much I weigh? 

Famous men also seem to be etiquettely challenged when it comes to chatting up women. Cristiano Ronaldo successfully seduced the mother of his baby with the line “Me.You. Fuck fuck.’ Which would surely result in any self-respecting woman responding with “You. Door. Fuck off.” Alas, it seems that fame and money go even further than personality.

(If any elderly relations are reading this, apologies for my disgraceful language.)

Some celebrities are worth following for the guaranteed genius of their quotes. Katie Price defended her use of botox with “I don’t worry about not being able to show emotion. It’s not like I’m an actor and need to have that ability.” No, Katie, but you are a human being. Let’s not forget that sometimes, even people who AREN’T Kate Winslet value being able to move their faces.
 

Dane Bowers confessed “I don’t really like Shakespeare. But I prefer the more modern stuff he wrote to that old school shit. I can’t understand most of it.” At least he’s honest, although I’m not sure what “modern stuff” Shakey wrote. (Could he be thinking of William Shatner?)

Some celebs have been pounced on for creating controversy, Kim Kardashian momentarily forgot about her own topless posing and sex tapes when she tweeted her disgust at a fellow restaurant patron daring to breastfeed with “no cover up”. The horror! (Although I do agree that changing a diaper at the table is going above and beyond the call of duty.) 

Kristin Stewart got into trouble for saying that photos of herself dealing with intrusive media attention made her feel “like I'm looking at someone being raped". Insensitive perhaps, but if that’s the way she feels, the Thought Police can’t exactly change that. (And I don’t suppose many people, especially at the age of twenty, could cope with the attention of the world’s media AND bloodthirsty Twilight fans...)

I’m no stranger to the tactless comment myself (hey, I’m a Sagittarian!) My most recent effort was while chatting to an American advertising executive about the differences between the US and UK. “How do you stand the TV?” I asked. “When there’s an ad break before the programme, then after the opening credits, then every three minutes...” He politely mentioned “Well, it’s my business, so....” and I frantically back pedalled, “Well, of course, there are the annoying adverts, and then there are the really good ones.... I can’t think of any really good ones right now... but I’m sure all of yours are...” 

It’s a good thing I don’t embarrass too easily; I also made a mirthful entrance to a garden party recently. The invitation was for a “Mad hatter’s tea party,” and the dress code read “Tea at the Ritz.” Hurrah! I donned my puffiest skirt and little top hat and set off, looking only slightly kooky. On the way, I met a small bumblebee who seemed to be ailing; I come from a household where poorly bees are always fed with watery honey. So I picked him up with a leaf and continued to my friend’s house with the unfortunate insect cupped in my palm, hoping I could perk him up with some sugar upon my arrival. 

Tottering as fast as my high heels could carry me, I arrived at the party to find a roomful of men staring dispassionately at the football game on TV. As opening lines go, “Has anyone got any honey? I’ve got a little sick bee here!” has to be my favourite to date. 

Unfortunately Mr Buzzy was not long for this world, but he did at least get a last meal (sugary water). And while I was the only one who had actually taken the “Ritz” part of the invitation to heart, in the words of Dita Von Teese, “I LOVE being overdressed.” But perhaps that makes me rude? 

Putting your rage to good use... (and I'm not talking about sending hate mail to Katie Price)

If all else fails, we can always empty the prisons for entertainment purposes. 
With our love of reality TV, I'm AMAZED that nobody has started a real life 
Running Man competition. It can only be a matter of time...

A recent survey found that 62% of Britons would not feel confident stepping in to prevent a group of 14-year-olds vandalising a bus stop, compared to 48% across Western Europe as a whole.

The study came from the Royal Society for the Arts, which has volunteered the suggestion to train park keepers, public transport workers, street cleaners, caretakers, and teachers so they are prepared to deal with rowdy youths.  

Ben Rogers (author of this study) apparently blamed our collective unwillingness to intervene on a “loosening of social ties” caused by factors such as women going to work and increased immigration. That’s funny, I always thought it was the fear of getting stabbed in the face. Does it for me. 

We have plenty of yobs who are spoiling for a fight, so why don’t we look on the bright side and harness all that aggression into something useful?  Just train up the most violent plebs into law enforcement officers so they can channel their natural belligerence against the cretins who so rarely pick on anyone their own size. 

Bullies confident in the fact that nobody who values their lives will dare admonish them, will have a rude awakening when they are “dealt with” by mobsters whose criminal records they can only dream of. (OK, this is starting to sound like a futuristic Arnie /  Sly / Bruce movie.)

Of course many of these people will also be mentally ill, as shown by the tributes to “legend” Raoul Moat. Never mind getting facebook to ban pages like this, I’d fix it so that you could track down every fan, DNA swab them and keep their details on file. And because they’d undoubtedly be too stupid to read the small print, I would write a disclaimer into facebook so they would have given their full consent to this.  

(Sometimes I surprise myself with how right wing I’ve become... however, all those FB friends of mine who describe their political stance as ”liberal” are always the first to invite me to groups called “paedophiles should have their throats cut and their toenails pulled out by wolves,” so perhaps there is a little confusion about the dictionary definition of “liberal”?)

Back in 1911, a criminologist named Arthur McDonald suggested that newspapers and books should stop publishing the names of criminals, as “this would lessen the hope for glory, renown or notoriety, which is a great incentive to such crimes.” 

In the meantime, watch Eden Lake. It's a brilliant, British made film with a horribly realistic portrayal of "Hoodie" culture. I was strangely depressed for about two weeks after watching it, but I do recommend it.

I am woman, hear me roar...

It would be impossible to review SATC2 without talking about the response to it; review the reviews, as it were. Even though the movie was deemed "critic proof" (well, duh! Of course we're not going to take your word for it!) and cleaned up at the box office, it's generally agreed to be a limp, witless version of its former self. As Carrie would say, I couldn't help but wonder.... is this fair?

The first film was miserable – not in quality but in subject matter – it was truly a dark journey for Carrie. For some reason, when commentators decide that the characters are now bimbos, they will write very bizarre and untrue appraisals; Hadley Freeman, for instance, wrote that "Carrie's response to having been jilted at the altar was: 'How am I going to get my clothes?" (However, this is the same "journalist" who felt qualified to write a review of the second film on the strength of having seen the trailer. Guess whose opinion I have zero respect for?)

The word on the street from the beginning was that the sequel would be much more light-hearted, a "romp", if you will. (I was tempted to send a dictionary to one magazine who took this to mean there would merely be lots of sex.)

Bizarrely, the same media which complains that there are "never any decent roles for older women" gripe that the actresses look haggard and old. Make up your mind!

In between the first film's depiction of Carrie's mind-numbing depression, I did enjoy the sparky little fashion vignettes and, of course, the stony beauty of New York. Indeed, if the city is the 5th character and fashion is the 6th, they both featured pretty well.

So what was the wisdom behind NY barely being given a cameo in this sequel? The film's makers chose to move the location to the Middle Ein order to show opulence that would not fit into post-credit crunch America, and it has the added benefit of removing the women from their domestic set-ups as well as putting the famously "liberated" ladies in a country where kissing can actually get you arrested.

As I expected, the film was a little over-long. But this is merely my point of view as a cinema-goer; if this is the last instalment of the girls as we know them, then I can see why the producers wanted to get their money's worth out of them. But has SATC jumped the shark? Mark Kermode described it as "ghastly" and "consumerist pornography." However, I enjoyed it; like most people who went to see the film, I am a fan and my loyalty is guaranteed.

True to form, the movie opened with a grandiose gay wedding, complete with Liza Minelli and a somewhat toe-curling cover of Single Ladies. But it's SATC, so we can forgive some minor lapses in judgement. At least the jokes were a reminder of a wittier time on the show.

I loved the 80s flashbacks – I had been looking forward to them since seeing the "leaked" pictures. I would have liked more, but I appreciate why these scenes needed to be a) short and b) shot from a distance. (SJP has claimed she will find it hard handing the part over to a younger actress if they decide to make a prequel. As Miley Cyrus has been cited as a possibility (please, God, no!) SJP would get my vote every time.

The premise of SATC being the crimes and misdemeanours of four single women, it was always going to be tricky to keep the drama going when they settled down.

However, these ladies each have their own cross to bear. While Samantha is dealing with menopause, Carrie is finding married life with Big not half as exciting as the dating days; Charlotte is a mother (who finds this lifestyle difficult although she is a full-time mom with full-time help) and Miranda has to balance work and life. (Thus the first accusations of SATC "selling out" – for daring to suggest that a woman's life might be more enjoyable if she didn't work a 70-hour week, and occasionally saw her children.)

Charlotte has acquired a nanny who is attractive and doesn't wear a bra, creating typically bawdy humour. The writers were evidently so proud of their joke about the "Jude Law" (the one against hiring beautiful nannies, of course) that not only did everyone laugh hysterically, they also referenced it later in the movie, with Carrie explaining her quip "I just had to go for it". I miss the old days, when witticisms were so commonplace that they were woven seamlessly into the conversation and nobody reacted, because it was taken for granted that the conversation would sparkle.

Their arrival in Abu Dhabi feels uncomfortably like a promotional video. Much has been made of the affluence displayed, and I must admit, it is staggering. But it's meant to be. People enjoy seeing richness beyond their means (it's why TV's Cribs is popular, after all). I might add that nobody ever complains that James Bond has too many fancy gadgets, or that his suits are too expensive... Why should "boy's films" have all the fun?

What's more, money and swanky parties were always part of the set-up. Samantha runs her own successful PR company, Miranda is a lawyer, Charlotte is a Park Avenue princess whose wealth only increased with each husband, and Carrie only struggled for money because she spent $40,000 on designer shoes – not exactly a welfare case, is she?

The women have a short discussion on the wearing of veils and burkinis at the pool. Is this racist? Are they gawping at these women in an ill-mannered, judgemental way? Well, perhaps. But merely showing how the culture is different in another country is hardly offensive. Their conversation touches upon the fact that bellydancers somehow slip past the "modest dress" rule – "Oh, those clever religious men!" (It's a fair point....) The much maligned "burkini" scene also features a men's sports team who take advantage of the double standards in place to prance around in budgie smuggling speedos.

Character development is pretty much limited to Carrie's adjustment to marriage and the revealing discussion between the two mothers in the film. I honestly feel that the film makers were trying to SAY something with this piece of celluloid. There is one scene which I still can't quite believe really happened; the karaoke rendition of a popular 1970s feminist song, which 40-something women would have grown up with, just as today's ten year olds sing along with Rihanna's Rude Boy. (There's nothing like hearing a pre-pubescent girl merrily belting out "Can you get it up? Is it big enough?" is there?)

I've never been a huge fan of the idea (so often repeated by our media) that women's liberation = promiscuity = freedom, (indeed, some would argue that it is merely a different form of servitude) but I do think it is vastly preferable to having entirely different laws for men and women.

The issue of being "sexually liberated" women in a Middle Eastern country with what we might call "old fashioned" values, leads to a climax which many have deemed ridiculous and racially insensitive. Samantha's defiance towards men who are quick to judge may be over the top ("Yes, condoms! I have sex!") but what's the betting that this scene was immensely satisfying for women who live in oppressive cultures? (If they were able to see it.)

Carrie also throws caution to the wind when she emulates Claudette Colbert's leg flashing antics to get a cab (so shocking in 1934); perhaps Samuel Johnson was right when he said "Nature has given women so much power that the law has very wisely given them little." Right about the first part, anyway.

SATC always set out to be honest about the issues facing women today. Are we less valid as human beings if we never marry or have children? (We certainly get fewer presents.) Can a woman's career suffer when her sexual escapades become common knowledge? Is there ever a good time to have a baby? This film forces us to revert to old school feminism when the questions are about basic women's rights such as the ability to make decisions for themselves.

But are we really any further along the road to equality than other cultures? Miranda points out "Men in the US pretend they're comfortable with strong women, but really a lot of them would prefer us eating French fries behind our veils."

A strong theme is that of female solidarity; from a nanny who can be supportive without being a threat, to the universal love of fashion or understanding of the menopause.

The fact (apparently little known among film critics) is that women in the UAE actually DO wear beautiful designer clothes under their burkas. Andrew O' Hagan wrote a scathing piece for the Evening Standard in which he lambasted the scene in which the women remove their robes; patronisingly assuming their love of labels meant they were trying to be "American" like Carrie.

I actually think there's something rather sweet about women of certain religions dressing modestly and covering their hair in public so that their husbands are the only ones who see them as nature intended – if that's what they've chosen for themselves. Perhaps it really is the girls who feel the need to hoist themselves into wonderbras and stilettos every day who are being controlled by a male dominated society?

The internet is heavily censored in the UAE, illustrated by Samantha's inability to get hold of her menopause herbs. But does the film represent the residents of Abu Dhabi badly? Er, no. The film is a reflection of the women as tourists. They gawp at burkas, may not be the sharpest customers in the market, and, without men running their schedule, can barely catch a flight by themselves. In contrast, the residents are shown to be hard-working and honest, with a hardline attitude to sex. Samantha is reported for being overly friendly with a man in public, which may seem draconian to those of us familiar with programmes like "Holiday reps in Faliraki woohoo!" but it is a realistic depiction of life in the UAE. Far from insulting the strict codes of conduct, I think many residents would approve of this demonstration that chastity and respect of morals are expected by both citizens and visitors.

As Kim Cattrall points out,"We've been doing Sex And The City for 14 years, we've been upsetting people for 14 years. We're kind of used to it, that's what the show is all about."

Helen Reddy was right; we really do have a long, long way to go. We tolerate oppression under the guise of "respecting" other cultures. Meanwhile, in the year 2010, women are still being arrested for wearing trousers.

While we pontificate about whether showing women wearing burkas in a film set in Abu Dhabi is indeed "racist" or not, there are still places in the world where women can be beaten and raped by their husbands with the full blessing of the law, where they cannot legally obtain birth control, and genital mutilation is rife.

Now, that really is offensive.