Slutz

Someone, I can't remember who, once told me that the world is divided into two sorts of people. The sort of people that like to divide the world into two sorts of people, and the sort of people that don't. I liked that. There are all sorts of divisions, aren't there. The tongue curlers (I can); the left handed (that's me - or the cack-handed as my mum used to say....as a linguist I so love the origin of that phrase....); the believers and the infidels; horses and currant-buns in the National Portrait Gallery; the sheep and the goats. Course my favourite division-game is the legendary three-category Shag Marry or Kill which I feel sure could be the topic of a blog entry all of its own.

These days it's between the Bratz and the Barbies. I never imagined a time when I would be encouraging the girls to play with Barbies. I mean they're hardly striking a blow for the sisterhood with their simpering blondness and girly part-time dog-walking careers and their body-fascism, are they? But they are positively appealing in relation to the sinister new alternative the Bratz.

The Bratz are slutty creatures that were probably the school bullies. They wear tons of lurid make-up and are dressed for a cheap night out in a provincial nightclub. They buy their clothes from the market - or Lakeside if they're feeling flush (or nicked a handbag). They have spray tans and tattoos. They smoke (I bet). They binge-drink and get into girls fights, throw up over their own shoes on the way home and always fuck on the first date (they don't do second dates). They are enjoying their brief flowering as they will all have two kids and be on the social before they are 20.

The Barbies are American, probably staying in the UK with their mother's childhood penfriend so they can do some sightseeing and train to be kindergarten teachers or veterinary nurses or air hostesses. They are clean and wholesome and always have fresh white underwear. They have lovely manners and always keep their rooms tidy and make their beds as soon as they get up. They have steady boyfriends and are saving themselves for someone special.

Think Rizzo versus Sandy. Amy Winehouse versus Katherine Jenkins. Angelina Jolie versus Jennifer Aniston. Kate Moss versus Gywneth Paltrow. I reckon most girls fall into one category or the other. (If you're not sure - see if the girl you're trying to categorise has to take her feet off the ends of her legs when she wants to change her shoes - then you know she's a Bratz).

Which would you rather be? Take the question seriously: there's a battle going on in the playroom for the hearts and minds of our daughters.

I'd rather be neither. Dolls I would like to be:

• Any of the Thunderbirds (with the exception of the girls who are all crap)
• Aquamarina from Stingray
• Action Man With Gripping Hands
• Stretch Armstrong
• President Barbie (with Johnny Depp as my call-me-Monica intern)

Thoughts?