I just discovered that the Incwriter’s blog was being imported to my Facebook profile so it appeared to be by me. It must have seemed as though I was never away. It looks as though I did it deliberately to claim the words for my own but I didn’t. When I unimported Incwriters there was a serious message from Facebook about only importing your own blog, terms and conditions, offence under Privacy Act blah blah blah. I didn’t do anything.
Mobile phone masts defacing the ancient cliffs of Penwith, North Cornwall would be unthinkable, like putting them on the pyramids, or Big Ben. So I was out of range for days and unable to post my blog which would have been a series of rants about privilege, Tate St Ives, and trying to use computers in libraries. I know I should promote libraries, but trying to use a computer in one is impossible. When I’m at home I get by with a healthy load of swearing. So there I was using the c word, the f word and a few others in front of a set of 5 year olds interacting with the Postman Pat multimedia zone. I thought that was bad. The staff shouted out to a silver surfer with a white stick who was leaving, “Have you calmed down now? You shouldn’t take things so personally.” WTF? Then an anti-hunt protester came in and delivered a lecture to anyone who was listening. Kids. You don’t know what you’re missing. Get down to the library.
All summer the BBC was dumping its pathetic presenters in the drink. Matt Baker, Neil Oliver, Adam Henson, Julia Bradbury all pushed in so that a man in a helicopter could rescue them heroically. It went on almost every night like a modern day ducking stool. I now know that the purpose was to trick the nation into thinking it’s business as usual beyond the sofa. It’s no such thing. Setting off on a clifftop walk in Cornwall, the first thing I saw was a scrawled note at the start, “Please note the cliff top rescue has been axed by the Maritime Coastal Agency”. The sinister subtext being if you fall in you’re fucked. Not so if you’re a BBC presenter. I bet even their mobile phones work in Cornwall.
I did get to listen to Radio 4 all week, but then they went on strike so I got a prerecorded You and Yours telling us how good mobile phones are and how lucky we are not to live in the bad old days when unions resisted progress ensuring there was only one phone for the whole of Manchester. Mobile phones are crap. I’ve got one and it’s crap.
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