She's cancelled all remaining gigs until the end of the year - including her Belfast show next week - citing exhaustion and emotional strain. But do we feel compassion for the beleaguered Amy Winehouse - or are we just fed up reading about her problems?

Go and get yourself some rehab

Amy 'Whinehouse' - the face that launched a hundred tabloid headlines. The female version of Pete Doherty is not having a good time, by all accounts.

But who is the real Amy Winehouse?

A misunderstood diva who has fallen into the age-old trap of celebrity, resorting to drink and drugs in a bid to cope with the largely unexpected success of a platinum-selling album, or a sorry excuse for a human being?

The sad story of Amy has all the trappings of the troubled genius. An artistic temperament that cannot possibly sit easily in a mundane life.

And incidents involving Amy are manna from heaven for the tabloids.

She has been snapped in street spats with her hubby, Blake Fielder-Civil, then there are stories of the pair booking themselves into joint rehab in a desperate attempt to clean up their act.

But hey, it's only rock'n'roll right?

And that is my point. While Pete Doherty et al are not exactly breaking the mould when it comes to rock stars, they are perpetuating the myth that getting off your face regularly is fun, even glamorous.

As a parent, let me enlighten youngsters who will not have the benefit of some experience.

Far from being a square for not over-indulging, I can tell you there is nothing more dull than a drunk ... or any addict for that matter.

While Amy is getting everyone's attention with her antics, there is nothing appealing about waking up in your own vomit.

And as a spectator sport, it sucks.

Spare me from the people who say 'it is an illness, don't you know' and blether on about it being her choice to abuse herself.

That's as maybe, but unless you live in splendid isolation - and selfish addicts rarely do - what about the fallout for friends and family?

Add to the mix the heady allure of pop super-stardom and you have yourself one volatile and very dubious role model for impressionable young people.

Amy herself may be a victim on some level, be that of her own success or her own vulnerabilities. But how often do you have to be face-down in your own sick to realise you've got a problem?

Go get yourself some rehab, Amy ... yes, yes, yes.

Don't do it for the kids, nor even the media ... do it for yourself.

We all love a survivor and that's our Amy

There haven't been many artists this decade who have managed to offend the self-appointed moral majority as much as Amy Winehouse.

In some circles the very mention of her is as controversial as a night out at your local curry house with Jade Goody's clan and yet through it all, she remains as magnetic as ever.

But why do we all keep reading about her and buying her records, I hear you cry?

Well, because everyone loves a survivor and nobody plays that role better than the bee-hived behemoth of modern jazz.

In the past year alone she's fought with the paparazzi, battled the haters and brawled with her husband Blake Fielder-Civil, polarising the public and making her either reviled or revered.

Everyone has an opinion on La Winehouse, but no matter what happens down the line you can't deny that she's made pop music dangerous and unpredictable again and for that I say god bless her.

Musicians are at their best when they're shocking the mainstream.

Marc Bolan's gender-bending performances and Joe Strummer's politicised sloganeering are perfect examples of what I'm talking about and now that torch has been passed to our Amy. While her music might tell a different story, for all intents and purposes she is as punk as they come.

But it's not the tattoos and Siouxsie Sioux-inspired eye make-up that gives her away as a natural heir to Joey Ramone's throne - it's her take-no-lip attitude that marks her apart.

For me, part of Amy's charm lies in her innate ability to put people's noses out of joint. If you take a moment to think about her detractors, you'll realise that most of them are middle-aged, middle-of-the-road men who probably haven't listened to a record since Alvin Stardust gurned on about his Coo-Ca-Choo in 1973 (and they say that Amy is a bit nutty).

Quite frankly it's about time that the old guard were given their marching orders and I reckon Ms Winehouse is the girl to do it.

But let's not forget what brought her to the dance in the first place - her voice.

There is no doubt in my mind that once all the hype and hyperbole dies down, Back to Black will define this decade.

From the opening stomp of Rehab all the way through to album closer He Can Only Hold Her, the record is pure sonic gold. It's an accessible, old-school pop album full of anthems that are catchier than the cold at Christmas and it has deservedly made Amy an icon.

I think what's most exciting about her, however, it that the best is yet to come. You see Amy writes from experience and if a fairly modest family argument about her drinking led her to pen her calling card, Rehab, can you imagine what album number three has in store?

Edwin McFee