Is it time to dispel the urban myth of "unwitting feminists"? The women who decline to call themselves feminist but are nevertheless labelled feminist by other people, usually, natch, feminists. Women who are actually pretty rude about feminists but who can nevertheless end up declared feminist, in deed, if not intent.

A little while ago, the Great British Bake Off star Mary Berry gave an interview stating that feminism was a "dirty word". She loved having her coat fetched for her, and feminism was just "shouting at men", when you should "persuade them gently to do things". A quite brilliant and thorough representation of feminism, we all disagreed.

Now Joan Bakewell has responded that she feels that Berry would probably have led a quiet unchanging rural life, while a woman like herself "whizzed about" in a more "rackety" existence, so feminism mattered a lot more to her.

Bakewell also said: "[Berry] would doubtless expect to be paid a decent wage for the job she does and she would probably expect to be paid as much as a man. So to that extent she is a feminist without realising it."

Funny isn't it, how it takes a feminist to be gracious about a non-feminist?

Certainly it's interesting to observe Berry being derogatory and ill informed about feminism ("dirty word", "shouting at men" – Mary, you haven't got the manners you were born with!).

By contrast, Bakewell makes an effort to understand Berry's viewpoint, pointing out her achievements, and even garlanding Berry with a covert feminist mindset some might say ill becomes her. And when I say, "some people" I mean Berry herself.

Why do so many feminists do this – why do they feel the urge to make a "claim" on women who have quite baldly stated they want nothing to do with them – that indeed they oppose everything they stand for?

Is it a bizarre form of feminist self-hatred, neediness, or a strain of delusion, even arrogance? "That woman is a feminist, but she's too thick to realise it, and she needs me to let her know." Is it about tribalism, a yearning for inclusivity?

What's certain is that non-feminists aren't like this – they don't tend go about randomly "claiming" feminists as (secretly) one of them. You don't tend to see women such as Mary Berry remarking: "You know, that Joan Bakewell is a non-feminist without even realising it."

However, feminists do it rather a lot. I'm a repeat offender, but I'm starting to realise how strange it is.

Here's an idea – if someone states that they're not a feminist, just let them. Say "Oh blah" and wave them off. Whatever their achievements, and Berry's are vast, they're clearly not feminist if they think so little of feminism.

However feminist they might behave (careers, ambition, mysterious refusals to give up baking empires to wait patiently at home for a man to fetch their coat for them), they can't be labelled feminist if it has to be forced on them.

It could even be argued that claiming women such as Berry as "unwitting feminists" is letting them off a very large and scratchy ethical hook.

Indeed, while a much younger female could just about get away with not understanding what feminism means, you'd have thought that Berry would have lived through, or at least alongside, enough feminism not to be quite this blinkered, dismissive and unappreciative.

That's why, past a certain age, there is no such thing as an "unwitting feminist" – just rather rude, ungrateful women who should know better. Instead of politely arguing with them, and earnestly pointing out their feminist sensibilities, perhaps the only useful response is to be just as weird and rude back.

So here we go: Mary, if you're such an anti-feminist, what on earth are you doing excelling at a brilliant career – don't you have some ironing to do?

Even Boris doesn't deserve Darius

Poor Boris Johnson. First, he's hit by the Mair Missile ("You're a nasty piece of work"), then comes the Darius Doodlebug. Johnson's schoolfriend and Bullingdon mucker, Darius Guppy, leapt to Johnson's defence in the Spectatorcorrect, though I use the word "defence" loosely. Amid his exhilarating philosophical musings, Guppy seems unrepentant regarding the infamous tape of him asking Boris for a journalist's details, saying he only regretted not giving the hack in question a "hiding". You let it all hang out, Guppy – don't mind us.

Guppy opines that journalists are liars, but so are politicians, following this by asserting that many important historical characters have been "nasty pieces of work" (the rationale presumably being: is there room for a cuddly blond one?). Throughout, Guppy drolly intones "Mr Mair" in a way that makes you wonder: does he want to punch him or fag for him?

There are other good bits. Oh why pretend, it's all good bits – a fine piece of comedy writing. In fairness, there's also vigorous condemnation of Johnson's "ritual humiliation" of his wife and family (Nice one, Gups), and rather more wistful allusions to "God" than you'd expect from a convicted insurance fraudster. The effect is somewhat revealing, especially for Johnson, whose "amiable bumbler" act has gone into such dire freefall that only the "ironic student vote" could save him now.

Boris must have been tearing out those flaxen locks, desperate for Guppy to stop "defending" him – he'd doubtless try to strangle him with the old school tie if he could. Just think, all that Boris misery David Cameron has been through, and all he ever had to do was "defend" him, Guppy-style. A textbook case of with friends like Darius Guppy, who needs enemies like Eddie Mair?

Lily, do put your clothes back on, dear. It's freezing

Yeah Yeah Yeahs' new Sacrilege video, features Lily Cole copulating with an entire town: men, women in stockings, a vicar, all the usual suspects. There's also a Wicker Man-style subplot where she gets her promiscuous comeuppance. Or does she? It's hard to tell. Or indeed care, what with Cole scurrying about, trying to look rampant, while desperately trying to hide her breasts like an embarrassed fifth-former in the PE showers.

After watched the video through splayed fingers, I can report that it's grim – kind of "Confessions of a supermodel and a New York indie band, both equally desperate for attention". It makes the Prodigy's Smack My Bitch Upcorrect look like La Dolce Vita.

How odd that such a band would have a nude, bonking supermodel in their video. As for Cole, she's clearly tired of her edgy alien thing, and wants to be considered quite the sexpot. She doesn't understand that she was already quite the sexpot as an edgy alien.

As it is, the thought of all the pervy pausing on her nude shots is quite unbearable. Bad move, Ms Cole. Next time they ask make it a no, no, no.

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