Another day, another literary prize hijacked by the woke mob. This time, American poet Sasha Debevec-McKenney has snagged the Swansea University Dylan Thomas Prize for her debut poetry collection, 'Joy Is My Middle Name' – a title as subtle as a hammer to the face. Apparently, the £20,000 award, meant for writers under 39, is now a consolation prize for anyone who can string together a few vaguely angsty lines about race, addiction, and the horrors of being a woman (in the West, anyway).

The award ceremony took place in Swansea, Wales, the birthplace of Dylan Thomas. One can only imagine what the hard-drinking, famously rebellious Thomas would think of this saccharine display of performative victimhood. He’d probably roll over in his grave, then get up and write a far better poem about it while hammered on whiskey.

Irenosen Okojie, chair of the judges, gushed about the collection being an "exuberant, blistering collection full of life, humour and ideas." Right. Because nothing screams “life” like whining about your privileged problems while attending a fancy creative writing program. Sounds like an antidote, alright: an antidote to quality art.

'Joy Is My Middle Name', published by Fitzcarraldo (who?), apparently dives into the soul-crushing experience of being in your twenties and thirties. The horror! The collection touches on race, sex, womanhood, addiction, and consumerism. So, basically, every buzzword guaranteed to get you tenure at a woke university.

Debevec-McKenney, a creative writing fellow at Emory University, has had her work featured in The New Yorker, the New York Review of Books, and the Yale Review. Surprise, surprise. It's almost like the literary establishment is an echo chamber of leftist drivel.

Fiona Sampson, writing for the Guardian (of course), called the collection "fast and furious." More like fast and forgettable. She mentions “smash-and-grab raids on a North American life of creative writing programmes.” It's a smash-and-grab of taxpayer money, more like it.

In an interview with Literary Hub, Debevec-McKenney admitted her poems are mostly read by “crazy, chaotic girls like me.” At least she's self-aware. But don't worry, she adds, “Anyone can read my poems, I hope.” But not everyone should. Because time is precious, and life is too short for bad poetry.

So, congrats, Sasha Debevec-McKenney. You've officially won the participation trophy of the literary world. Now go back to your creative writing program and complain about microaggressions. The rest of us have actual problems to deal with. It’s giving nothing, literally nothing.