THERE were plenty of words in the letter written by James Blunt to shadow culture secretary Chris Bryant that probably should have been axed before it made it out to the public.

He called Bryant a "pretentious wazzock" and a "classist gimp". But the one I find most objectionable, is the word "envy".

If only Blunt hadn't written that letter he probably wouldn't have become the ridiculed poster boy of inequality in the arts. He could easily have ignored Bryant's passing reference to him, along with Eddie Redmayne, as privileged celebrities, in an interview whose main point was to address lack of diversity in the arts. Most people know Blunt is a little bit posh - even if they don't know that he went to Harrow public school - and don't really care. Perhaps they might even have come across the recent news report that he is also, in the People With Money list of 2015, the world's highest-paid singer, and not flinched. They might have thought fine, he deserves it - his music is fairly likeable.

But what Blunt penned was a narcissistic splurge of entitlement. He whined that actually he'd had a fight to get on in the music industry where he was often told he was too posh. He wrote of the politics of jealousy. And suddenly the whole James Blunt package didn't seem quite so posh-but-charming any more. Suddenly he seemed like one of those ghastly one-percenters whose gross insensitivity lies, not in their riches or their success, but in their failure to acknowledge that their privilege is what has blessed them with this.

The phrase "politics of envy" should be wiped from the language. Its endless repetition amounts to a kind of cultural brainwashing of the 99% by the 1%. People who talk about envy appear to want to belittle what others feel about the unfairness of the world and our current society. Envy is not what people are feeling right now. This is the politics of rage. It's the politics of anger. And we feel it not just for ourselves, but on behalf of others. We feel it even if we feel little actual envy for the super-rich's wealth and possessions. We feel it because actually people have a natural sense of justice - and that involves some notion of proportionate reward (you get according to your talent and what you put in) and equality of opportunity.

Clearly Blunt does feel envied, as solipsistic rich people often do. He feels people are jealous of him. And he dismisses any diversity or redistribution politics as mere jealousy. I am frequently annoyed when people fail to acknowledge the essential role of privilege and good luck in their lives. If I can see my own good luck, my own moderate privilege, how come they can't? Are they so sealed inside their own bubbles?

In the original interview, the one that caused all the fuss, Bryant was asked: where were the Albert Finneys and Glenda Jacksons of today? Where are the working-class heroes in the arts? Actually they still exist across the UK, though many of them are getting older. But where are the young ones? It's easy to imagine that it's different here in Scotland: that we're somehow doing it better. But the truth is, it's only very slightly, just as we are only very slightly more equal than the rest of the UK. True, there are plenty of luminaries - including actors James McAvoy, Martin Compston and Kate Dickie, writers like Alan Bissett and comedians such as Limmy - who don't belong to the 7% of the population who were privately educated. But what about others who work in the arts, who are artists or craftspeople? I'm sure the statistics would reveal an artistic world skewed towards those of some small independent means, those who had a relative with a flat they could rent for cheap or free.

Blunt complained that he was considered too posh by the music industry. That was probably true. He wasn't the story they were looking for: which is a reminder that actually we still prize the idea of a meritocracy, still want to hear the story of the working-class hero making it. Our feelings about this are probably stronger than ever. Yet, Blunt is also an illustration of how that is not the reality. Instead we have a music industry, which, like many other areas of life, is dominated by the 7% who were privately-educated. When Blunt first emerged, he was sold to us as a soldier, not a Harovian. Our culture likes still to deliver the story of raw unprivileged talent, but not necessarily the reality. And many of the rich are getting richer by selling us that dream.

But this is not just an arts story. The trajectories of social inequality and mobility have been the same in the rest of society. Social geographer Danny Dorling has charted these and shown how there was a period last century when social mobility rose, which peaked in the 1970s. He notes that academics and social thinkers began to be interested in the problem of social inequality early in the 20th century, but that it was not till after the Second World War, in the 1950s that the policies began to be put in place. He believes this could happen again. But it would take a "slow revolution". It will also only happen if we are angry enough.

The truth is, many people out there are angry. They are not envious or jealous. If we are going to invest the battle against inequality with any kind of emotion, it should be this. Rage not jealousy. A sharp fury, not a blunt envy.