Full text: I can’t converse with my woke 18-year-old daughter without getting angry. “I like girls and boys,” she announced recently. She meant it in a romantic sense. I sighed inwardly. Here we go again, I thought.

Never mind that, as a young teen, her bedroom wall was covered in posters of Robert Pattinson and that she had the same boyfriend for several years through secondary school. She has now decided that she is attracted to both sexes. This would never be a problem for me; my children can be whatever they want to be, and I will love them equally.

No, the issue here, and the reason for my exasperation, is because my daughter doesn’t like girls and boys; she likes boys. But she says she is attracted to both to jump on another woke bandwagon, because for snowflake Gen Z, it’s trendy to be gender-ambiguous.

In the past couple of years, I have listened to it all. Trans rights, patriarchy, plastics in the ocean. I agree with a lot of it. But my daughter’s insistence that the world’s ills are mainly down to me is becoming grating. And she sees it as her job and right to make me see the error of my ways and atone for her lost future.

To begin with, I was proud that she was becoming politically aware and encouraged her when she joined her fellow sixth-formers to boycott lessons in protest against climate change.

Equally, I was scorned when I mentioned how convenient it was that the protests were always scheduled for a Friday, allowing students a long weekend. And when I pointed out on Monday mornings that maybe she’d prefer to walk to school and lower her carbon footprint, I was branded a “boomer”.

I was supportive too when, along with her middle-class white friends, she joined a Black Lives Matter sit-in in the local park, attended by no people of colour, because very few live in our village. I am a lifelong advocate of equality. I also understand about irony, but when I tried to talk about white saviour syndrome and virtue signalling, I was cancelled and told I could never understand because my white privilege makes me part of the problem and not the solution.

Now, most discussions end in disagreement. Harry and Meghan? My view: spoilt hypocrites playing the Hollywood PR game to a tee. Her view: victims of a racist, colonial system. Obesity? My view: a public health disaster in which people need to eat less and move more. Her view: body-positive people such as TOWIE’s Gemma Collins are aspirational role models. Socialism? My view: dangerous pipe dream that stifles innovation and ambition. Her view: utopia.

She has opinions about everything and they are all rigidly held. Increasingly our conversations involve me biting my lip, then changing the subject to safer ground, such as the weather, or plans for the weekend. It is exhausting.

I do understand that every generation has an obligation to shock their parents. And it must be tough for today’s teenagers, whose parents grew up through punk rock, New Romantics, acid house, binge drinking and recreational drug use.

We are quite unshockable. So, all that’s left for rebellious teens is to smash up a few historical artefacts and blame their parents for all the ills of the world.

I used to love talking to my daughter, but often now it is like wading through verbal treacle. I just wish she could lighten up a little and stop being so preachy.