It's hard to be a feminist dyke. Get the Kleenex.

Yesterday, I saw the film 'The Hours' by director Stephen Daldry. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The intention is presumably the latter, as all three female protagonists seem to be doing that all the way through the film: crying and pissing and moaning. And about what? The message seems to be that life sucks, no matter what. It doesn't matter if shit happens or not, whether it's events or non-events shaping these women's existences: it's all fucked up. Boo hoo. I feel sorry for their men. If I'd been Nicole Kidman's husband in it, I'd have just let the frumpy bitch sod off to London, throw herself under a train or whatever. While Julianne Moore's character suffers in silence, which is probably a blessing for everyone, Meryl Streep's is more the atmosphere Hoover type, sucking all the air out of any room she enters, until people just have to escape by putting on a spacesuit, or leaving by the nearest exit, even if it's a fifth storey window.

Then it dawned on me: they're all dykes. The road to fulfillment is the love of another woman. Fair enough: I can see that. And what with the world being so square for the first two - frumpy Kidman in the 1920s and Julianne Moore in the 1950s - they're understandably down in the mouth, having to do the done thing, marry men (yuk), have their children, bake cakes and so forth. As for Meryl Streep in the more permissive 21st century, living with her female lover, well you'd think she'd be happier, but if anything she seems the most miserable of the lot, although it's a close run thing. She's certainly the most vocal with it. What really kills it is the sterile exclusion of any semblance of humour. You could forgive them their interminable misery if only they cracked a joke occasionally.

Don't get me wrong. I really wanted to understand and enjoy this film, respect its premise, but in the end must conclude that it's a crock of feminist bollocks. 'We're all sad. We're all suffering.' Suffer, suffer, suffer... The burden doesn't seem to be hardships, losses, let downs, abuse or anything else remotely legitimate. No. The burden is simply the fact of being a woman. They're victims of biology.

Thank you, Stephen Daldry. You helped me get into the heads of these silly, narcissistic cunts. Next time I meet one, I'll run even faster, wasting even less time than I do now. On second thoughts, perhaps it's a masculist film, after all, the female leads all being so immensely unlikeable. He could have just made it a bit funnier.