Monday, January 26, 2004

SALES - A FEW MILLION v. v. good: Dido is cross. In a polite, you wouldn't really know it, background sort of way, but she's mildly vexed nevertheless. The reason? People keep calling her a Bridget Jones artist. Although she seems to take the tag as meaning her fans are all Bridget Joneses ("it doesn't make sense, there aren't enough thirtysomething women in the country") whereas we've always taken it mean that Dido's territory (love is quite nice... not being in love is a bit of a shame... ooh, I've had sex, that's a bit naughty) is pretty much Helen Fielding's, too. Although Dido has yet to write something where a thinly disguised Andrew Marr lets loose a tirade of expletives at her, so she's not quite as much fun.

And let's not try and make anything of Dido's claim that "I couldn't get through Bridget Jones' diary, myself" is any place to base a judgement on her intellectual capabilities. We're certain she meant she was so busy with Memories of Time Lost and Crime and Punishment she could never make time for it, and not that she was stumped by a collection of bite-sized pieces originally written for commuters to gulp down between stations.

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