Jemima Lewis: Pity the inarticulate MySpace generation

It is hard to know whether to be more depressed by their linguistic poverty or their blind aggression

Published: 19 May 2007

In our lavatory we have a framed letter that my husband, during a brief stint as a journalist, was sent by an angry reader. It is written on Concorde notepaper, and begins in a tone of lofty remonstration. But as his umbrage begins to swell - inflamed, perhaps, by generous servings of in-flight champagne - the author gradually loses control of his syntax, spelling and dignity. It ends in a climax of muddle-headed pomposity: "Perhaps you will do better next time, sir! PS: I hate you, you little homosexual shit. Fuck you! Hamster dick!"

It is, in short, an object lesson in how to lose an argument and make a fool of yourself in front of your enemy. "As soon as you shout, you've lost," my mother used to say, when I was squabbling with my little sister in the back of the car. The same is true of throwing insults, or punches. To win an argument, you need to keep your cool.

For that reason, I hope that Lily Allen will soon recover hers. The pugnacious princess of British pop has become embroiled in an unseemly cat fight. It began, apparently, when Cheryl Cole - footballer's wife, and one-fifth of the manufactured band Girls Aloud - described Allen as looking like a "chick with a dick". This cast the poor girl into such gloom that she posted this cri de coeur on her MySpace blog (the punctuation is her own):

"I used to pride myself on being strong minded and not being some stupid girl obsessed with the way I look . I felt like it didnt matter if I was a bit chubby cause , im not a model , I'm a singer . Im afraid I am not strong and have fallen victim to the evil machine . I write to you in a sea of tears from my hotel bed in Seattle , I have spent the past hour researching gastric bypass surgery , and laser lipo suction."

A few days later, however, buoyed up by an outpouring of support from her fans, she returned to the fray. "_Cheryl if you're reading this," she snarled, "I may not be as pretty as you but at least I write and SING my own songs without the aid of Auto-Tune. I must say taking your clothes off , doing sexy dancing and marrying a rich footballer must be very gratifying , your mother must be so proud , stupid bitch."

"There's nothing I like less than bad arguments for a view that I hold dear," said the American philosopher Daniel Dennett - and this is a case in point. The reason Lily Allen matters (and believe it or not, she does) is that, young and sexy though she is, she refuses to squeeze herself into the bland, buffed mold of female celebrity. Like her crazy, beehived contemporary Amy Winehouse, she looks a bit like one of us - which is to say, an individual - rather than a silicone clone. In an age when seven-year-old girls fret about their figures, and cite the professional Barbie doll Jordan as their "inspiration", we need women like Lily as proof that you don't have to conform to succeed.

But you cannot win the feminist argument with epithets such as "stupid bitch". Neither, for that matter, is the cause well served by Lily's fans, whose expressions of support tend towards the eye-wateringly unsisterly. "Fuck that slapper Cheryl," reads a typical entry "She is a vile dog anyway. WOOF WOOF!!" "Yeah," concurs another, "fuck Cheryl Tweedy up her stupid ass!!"

There is much talk of Cheryl being a "skinny whore" - because in the end, ladies, body shape is all we're interested in - which leads, with ghastly inevitability, on to a series of attacks on Amy Winehouse. "Amy Winehouse has an eating disoder [sic] so I think you should share your bread and pasta with her!" writes one joker, accompanying this bon mot with an "emoticon" of a laughing yellow face.

Everything that you need to make a decent argument - wit, logic, thoughtfulness and dignity - is notable here for its absence. It is hard to know whether to be more depressed by the linguistic poverty of the MySpace generation, or their blind aggression - but I suspect the one springs from the other.

Violence, whether physical or verbal, is nearly always an expression of frustration at not being able to make oneself heard or understood. The less articulate you are, the quicker you will resort to insults or fisticuffs to drive your point home.

Although Allen went to Bedales (one of the most expensive schools in Britain), she belongs to a woefully inarticulate generation. Grammar, debating, philosophy - all the disciplines that encourage logical thought and clear expression - have virtually disappeared from our schools since the 1960s, when educationalists began to argue that it was more "empowering" to give pupils "free expression". The result was the gradual disempowerment of millions of Britons, who lack the linguistic skills to do justice to their inner life. The result is a ruder, angrier country, where even the catfights lack panache.

Some schools are trying to bring back the old disciplines. It will not be easy: many of today's teachers were never taught about grammar or rhetoric, so will have to start from scratch. But it is surely worth a try - if only to give the Lily Allens of the future true freedom of expression.

jemima.lewis@ virgin.net