After one episode, the series . . . based on the novels of Cecily von Ziegesar . . . promises to be rather enjoyable (not that I spend my valuable office hours watching teen dramas on YouTube). The creator is the 21st century god of the teenage demographic, Josh Schwartz, who like Kevin Williamson before him (writer of the Scream trilogy and Dawson's Creek) has created a monopoly on youth melodrama with his baby, The OC.

In The OC, the characters frequently gathered around the box to watch a fictional teen drama The Valley. The reference was a smart-arse nod in the direction of those obsessed with such programming, who these days, are well out of their teenage years. Gossip Girl is another series in a long line of teen trash porn for oldies.

Television that appealed to teenagers 10, or even five years ago, was actually made for teens, and occasionally attempted to offer some kind of lesson learned. As Troy Patterson, the television critic for online magazine Slate (www. slate. com) mused, "Gossip Girl, like most modern teen drama is devoid of a moral compass, or a message. On Beverly Hills 90210, when Brenda Walsh lost her virginity, a pregnancy scare swiftly followed. When the heroines of Gossip Girl bed their rep-tied stud muffins, the consequences, if any, are strictly social. Transgressive frolic is the meat of the show."

Unfortunately, this 'message' TV for teens lives on only through Home And Away (generally in a rather linear story line: random foster child necks two Smirnoff miniatures, child is out of control, puking on beach, concerned friends rush to the surf club to seek help, child goes to Yabee Creek for counselling. ) Even Dawson's Creek, which for a time attempted to portray virginity as something that should be vaguely preserved in theory, eventually disposed of a script and simply strung words together, its sole aim being to perhaps introduce words with more than one syllable into the vocabulary of American teenagers.

The gratuitous portrayal of the teenager for the entertainment of adults began with Larry Clarke, whose 1995 landmark film and thesis on the teen, Kids, is disturbing even by today's standards. The feature included copious drug and alcohol consumption, the near murder of a man following a beating with skateboards and a HIV-positive Chloe Sevigny being raped in the final scenes. It was followed by similar stabs; Catherine Hardwicke's Thirteen and Noel Clarke's 'Kidulthood'. None of these of course were intended for the viewership of teenagers . . . the restrictive cinema ratings ensured that . . . but for the titillation and want-to-shock of grown ups.

Us adults love wallowing in the trappings and thrills of being a teenager. We want more trash, more sex, more drugs, more bitch fights, turmoil and Death Cab For Cutie B-sides as the soundtrack.

And when programmes like Channel 4's Skins and now Gossip Girl come along, the media wets itself in a collective rush of shock, faux-indignation and secret excitement, and presses the record button.

In a TV (and real) world where teenagers act like world-weary adults, and adults faff around like rudderless kids, you can see why grown-ups gravitate towards the youth TV market. But this fantasy created by Clarke, Schwartz and their ilk, while it might be entertainment for the 20plus market, does nothing to reflect the reality of the teen.

It does, however, have a massive impact on their view of popular culture and how they should be living their lives.

Glossy dramas perpetuate the myth of the teen. It is, the messiness of puberty aside, a fictional demographic concocted in order to sell consumer goods.

Ever since James Dean slumped sloppily against the wall of a police station in Rebel Without A Cause, swiftly followed by an upsurge in sales of denim jeans, TV, film and marketers have worked together to act out a fantasy and then capitalize on its material benefits.

And with the creation of tween dramas (guilty pleasure number one being Zoey 101 starring Jamie Lynn Spears aka the Good Britney), how long before teenagers gorge on those and leave Gossip Girl and co for the oldies? Well, maybe until Toddlers & The City comes along.

THE vast, vast majority of those who write Pete Doherty off as a ne'er do well junkie have never heard a song by Babyshambles.

They forget the effect of The Libertines, one of the most influential British bands of all time, and a band who are responsible for today's brilliant state of indie music. The Libertines changed the way the music industry ran, sharing their music and giving it away for free before MySpace was a twinkle in anyone's eye. They changed the meaning of the rock star, refusing to indulge themselves in anonymity and super stardom, instead inviting fans to their flat for gigs and parties.

Carl Barat and Pete Doherty sparked the great democratisation of indie music, which led to the formation of some of the best bands in years, namely Arctic Monkeys (and they are also partly responsible for one of the worst in the ego maniac Johnny Borrell . . . a former Libertine . . . and Razorlight).

Although the intensity and number of his fans may have faded, Doherty remains the most talented and prolific musician of his generation. Of course, he's not the best role model, but when Doherty and his mammoth appetite for crack and heroin are long gone, the legacy of his song writing will remain. It's about time his detractors put a sock in it and faced his music.