I SUPPOSE, on the surface of it, I could be perceived as a pope's child. Born in the early 1980s. I grew up, like David McWilliams, around Dun Laoghaire. Like David, I have an unfortunate Southsider accent, a legacy of a primary school education in a non-feepaying school in Foxrock. In his eyes, my elitism and destiny have been cemented by attending a Gaelscoil, moving into an over-priced barely city centre apartment and utilising all of the inflated delights Dublin in 2006 has to offer.

But wait a second. As myself and my mid-twenties flatmates watched In Search of the Pope's Children, along with around 517,000 people on Monday night on RTE One, we realised that not only were the people he was labelling with very catchy labels not us, but that we knew no one like them.

As the week went on, I queried every friend, acquaintance and colleague that I encountered if they were a HiCo, a Decklander, a Low GI Jane, a Kells Angel, a Breakfast Roll Man or a Yummy Mummy . . . or if they knew anyone who was. The question was met with rolling eyes and a resounding 'no'. As interesting and as entertaining McWilliams' manifesto was, we simply could not relate to it.

I don't own a credit card, so I don't get into debt. I don't spent a quarter of my week stuck in traffic, because like most of my peers, I can't afford to buy, juice or insure a car. I don't freak out when the Central Bank unleash bad-newsmortgage-talk because I have long resigned myself to never buying in Ireland.

McWilliams's entire thesis is built on such materialism, as if we're all traipsing around Dundrum shopping centre (now might be a good time to hang my head and admit I've never even shopped there) toting Hermes bags before retiring to Donnybrook Fair to stock up on organic and traceable cornfed chicken. What he forgets is that most people my age and around it are more preoccupied with getting by than with buying things.

The incessant pigeon-holing of unrecognisable groups of individuals is entertaining, but not neccesarily accurate, or fair.

McWilliams, as articulate, entertaining and intelligent as he is, is now to the middle classes what Des Bishop is to the working classes, disguising glossy profile-building exercises as social commentary. Well intentioned, I'm sure, but ultimately brimming with generalisations and inaccuracies.

In the first episode, McWilliams decided that the Pope's Children were sending their children to Gaelscoileanna to illustrate their dedication to the HiCo demographic. It's unusual that he didn't address one of the real sources of homogonised elitism in Irish society . . . the private, fee-paying school.

Maybe that's because McWilliams himself attended Blackrock College. From attending a Gaelscoil myself, I can say that his interpretation of the ethos of those schools (and he is certainly not alone in this) and the profile of those attending is entirely misguided.

In most Gaelscoileanna outside the Gaeltacht, the students are an advertisement of eclectism, with pupils from all backgrounds and locations. The common denominator is not money or cultural fashion, but highparental involvement and an interest in the Irish language. Unfortunately, that reality does not fit McWilliams's analysis.

That's not to say that In Search Of The Pope's Childrenwas uninformative. Oh no. We were informed that traffic is bad at rush hour, young people read The Star,