Many things about this adaptation delight me; the brilliance of the acting, the beauty of the Brighton backdrop, the sheer molten enjoyment of the prospect of outraging the Daily Hell yet again. But more than anything — after too many years of being shown as a full-on vale of tears — it is the sheer fun and games aspect of lesbianism portrayed in Sugar Rush that cheers and revives. Admittedly Kim, the lovelorn heroine, has a blub or two in the toilets while the object of her affection drunkenly snogs a long line of dumb and dumber boys — but that can be put down to adolescent hormones and teenage angst far more than any same-sex preference. All in all, though, the tears of sorrow shed in Sugar Rush are vastly outnumbered by the tears of helpless mirth — and how many heterosexual relationships can you say that of? And, though I love them dearly, a sizeable minority of gay men do tend towards shag-the-pain-away hysteria, often with disastrous results. But, if they can avoid Bed Death on the third date, lesbianism is as near to the horizontal Good Life as we know it.

You wouldn’t think it, though, to go by the representations of dykery in books and films. Take a walk on the Sapphic side of the street in art as opposed to reality and, from The Well of Loneliness to Mulholland Drive, it’s a right old soba-thon; that old German flick title The Bitter Tears of Petra Von Kant really spells it out. And even when they’re getting a kick out of life it’s because they’re sick, twisted, psychopathic killers, like in Basic Instinct or Monster! Where does this idea come from, I wonder? I know only one lesbian couple, but I’ve got to say they’re the happiest couple I know. Unlike my straight friends, they never row or bicker and their life often appears to be one long romp, full of dogs and fields and Jeeps. Going round their house — something I normally never do, as I find coupledom a kind of living death — is like going to Center Parcs, and when I’m there I literally never want to leave.

It seems like a “real” home — full of laughs — in the way that very few “straight” homes do. And this must be because, although they are grown-ups in that they go out into the world and earn large amounts of money, my friends have retained a youthful attitude to life which can only have been assisted by their Sapphic state; no kids, no nannies, no school fees, no stultifying the-animals-went-in-two-by-two dinner-parties.

All that disposable income and free time can’t help but give a happy couple a head start when it comes to fun — and, of course, the unshakeable advantage of doing something that society doesn’t really approve of, which has a way of keeping people young like nothing else. Plus lesbianism has all the sorts of health advantages that you’d think would have the Daily Hell jumping up and cheering; the lowest rate of all sexual diseases of any sexual demographic, most notably Aids. Somebody up there likes them.

Lesbians are often written off by gay men as party poopers — but in my experience there’s nothing to prove that you can’t have the dizziest and silliest of times while wearing sensible shoes. So the Candy Bar, Brighton’s only bona fide designer dyke watering hole, may be about to close down — but that’s because lesbians are looning around at home with their mates and making their own entertainment. The irony is that you’ll find more straight girls snogging in bars than you will gay ones — especially when there are rich and famous men about.

Talking of which, in recent weeks lots of well-meaning female columnists have been having the vapours over the current state of men’s magazines, and the fact that — shock, horror — men like to look at photographs of pretty women with their clothes off. I’m as much of a feminist as anyone — and unlike these liberal pussies, I believe in castration for proven rapists, so actually I’m far more of one! — but for the life of me I can’t see what they’re fussing about. Especially healthy, I can’t help feeling, is the sight of fit girls cuddling each other. Titillation, schmitillation — so long as they’re getting their kit off and doing a bit of girl-on-girl body-surfing, who cares!

So while teenage lesbians are definitely my most desired Sugar Rush audience, dirty old men are welcome, too. Because lesbianism is a fine and lovely thing; even when it starts as nothing more than a fashionable look, it has the power to bring down worthless and/or played-out heterosexual unions, which can only be a relief all round. And even when one doesn’t stick to it, it can work wonders in showing us exactly what we want from men, and what crap we aren’t prepared to put up with; the perfect sexual palate cleanser. Thus the more people who appreciate it — even rhythmically, by proxy, wearing the Empress’s New Clothes or wearing none on the cover of a lad mag — the better. The more the merrier — and the gayer, the greater.

Sugar Rush, Channel 4, June 7, 10.50pm

julie.burchill@thetimes.co.uk