It came to me in a dream, like John Lennon’s dream of flaming pie and a voice which said, ‘You men shall be Beatles”. My dream said sad girl novelists (see previous post) are channelling Taylor Swift.

The world is ‘Tay Tay’ed’ with screaming and crying female fans in their teens and 20s, dressed in brightly coloured, sparkly outfits.

There’s white boots, tights and cosies straight out of Wonder Woman – Fem 101 for being ‘right on’.

The rise of the sad girl novel is paralleled by the rise of Swift, although the young women who write their private excreta haven’t got $1B in the bank like Tay.

While Tay is golden and happy and spirited – like the covers of the sad girl novels – her lyrics make you want to blow your fucking head off with a shot gun.

Here’s, ‘My turn to be me’

Something about me didn’t fit into your perfect world

I bet the bluegrass stained your smile

You should use a darker color when you write on the wall

I haven’t read it a thousand times

Maybe if you saw me for a second you would realize

Honey I was trying so hard

Pass the spoon and the cigarette lighter, I’m checking out.

Sad girl writers want to tap into the Tay Tay zeitgeist, which on the surface is all, ‘he done me wrong’, ‘I am woman here me roar’, ‘sisters are doin’ it for themselves’, etc.

But they’ve honed in on the depressive, dark, morbid and fucked up side of life. They’re channelling their inner Morrissey (who I once saw in Blackpool).

I want these sad girl writers to start doing laps of the Fitzroy Pool in summer. They’ve got to get out more.