Pity the poor Cockney lass. As Lily Allen tells it, she spends her days scooting around London on her bike (because “the filth” took away her license), trying to think of ways to get back at her cloying ex-boyfriend and avoiding the unwanted advances of the chavs at the local pub.

Except that Allen, the talented 21-year-old British singer, has been exposed by the British press as no Cockney at all. Apparently she’s a “Mockney,” or an upper-class Brit who goes slumming to build a rep on the street.

But such distinctions are of little value to the American listener of her album “Alright, Still” (2006). Not to do injustice to that sizable group of East Londoners who, tragically, are incapable of pronouncing the letter “h,” but as far as Allen is concerned, all that matters is that the album is mostly great fun, both droll and catchy.

Her dominant persona is a bratty, world-weary girl whose interests are limited to relationships, family, wandering around and hitting the club. As such, she is walking on territory already covered by The Streets, the group to which she is most often (and appropriately) compared. Basically, despite the predictable hype about “girl power,” all that sass and attitude seems to arise more from standard-issue middle-class boredom.

To my mind, “Alright, Still” is best viewed as British comedy packaged together with some great beats and choruses.

When a creep asks for her number at the bar in the track “Knock ‘Em Out,” Allen replies, with perfect nonchalance: “No, not in a million years, you’re nasty, please leave me alone.” As if this were not enough, she invents a series of excuses, such as being pregnant and having herpes.

The songs are essentially straight-up pop, with traces of influence from ska and reggae. On several tracks, including “Smile” (the album’s hit single), Allen is backed up by a mellow horn section.

“Alright, Still” has been out in Europe for months, and “Smile” in particular is no well-kept secret. My roommate who spent last summer in Sicily tells me the song was second in popularity to no less than Paris Hilton on the local radio.

Nonetheless, Allen’s lyrics can make a fairly traditional (but always well-constructed) track sound subversive. She is at her best in songs that take advantage of this contrast. “LDN,” about wandering around London, starts off with a silly, mariachi-style trumpet solo as Allen sings in her cheeriest voice, “Everything seems to look as it should / But I wonder what goes on behind doors / A fella looking dapper, but he’s sitting with a slapper / Then I see it’s a pimp and his crack whore.”

Like most comedy, however, you can only return to it so many times before it starts to lose its flavor. I have only listened it a few times, but already some of the songs are getting on my nerves, such as “Alfie,” where she scolds her pot-smoking younger brother, and “Nan You’re A Window Shopper,” where she tosses off some predictable old-person jokes about bingo and colostomy bags. (The latter is a bonus track on the U.S. version of the album.)

Overall, it’s great music to play with friends to show off your witty, slightly subversive side. But not the kind of music you would listen to alone, on your iPod, for the 200th time.