THE GLOOM

So, after all these years they've finally figured out the way to make us save energy.

I'm talking about the new, energy efficient light bulbs that are now the law and how anyone selling anything other than an energy efficient light bulb can be imprisoned and shot and have their family deported to a space prison on the moon.

And the really great thing about these energy efficient light bulbs is how they're exactly like the old light bulbs, except for being funny shapes and a lot dimmer.  So, if you can get them to fit in your old light fixture, you have the joy of sitting in the greyish gloom of your living room, or squinting as you read by the dimness of that used-to-be-100-watt bedside lamp.

It is a truly genius plan, machiavellian in its intricacy.  You see, for years and years we've all willfully wasted energy, leaving lights on, burning the brightest bulbs.  Now nobody dares turn on one of their last remaining energy inefficient bulbs, because once they're gone that's it - you're in the gloom, my friend.  Ho ho, the Shadow knows.

By introducing a product that isn't really up to the job, finally the government has found a way to make us turn off the lights when we leave a room.

THE SOCIAL ENGINEERING

It is with a growing sense of horror and revulsion that I learn that the workers in overseas call centres are now being coached in the fine art of small talk.

The scenario breaks down like this:  A UK business employs a call centre in India to field their queries because it's cheaper and - let's face it - no call centre in the recorded history of time* ever provided any help to anyone ever, so what the heck does it actually matter who answers the phone?  But there is the perception that these overseas call centres are alienating that precioius client base by being a bit too gosh-darn foreign.  So, now the overseas employees are being coached in current UK events, like what's happening in Eastenders and who's doing well in the Premier League Football competition.  Slip in a couple of cultural references and a line from a Lily Allen song and, the theory goes, no one will realise they're actually discussing their Sky Plus television subscription with someone in Mumbai.

Except, I don't watch Eastenders, I don't like football.

In fact, it is fair to say that I spend my life studiously avoiding situations that will require small talk as I find it to be the last gasp of a dying society with nothing left to say.  So, coaching an overseas sales rep in the minutiae of soap operas and sporting events I couldn't care less about only serves to make me hate him - and you, UK-based company - more.  Now, I am no longer politely rejecting your product - I am wishing its swift demise, that your scripted anecdotes about how well "Man U" did in last night's "ruddy important game" will just leave me alone.

As is so often the case, whatever it is you're selling - I'm not buying.

(* For training purposes, your history of time may be recorded) 

THE SHOES

In today's Metro newspaper they are running a poll to find out whether you think we are about to see a resurgence of swine flu.  A poll.  You can text in your vote, be it yes or no, to say whether you think swine flu will make a resurgence.

Is this how we're deciding illness epidemics these days?  Have we become so ingrained in voting for who's got talent, who dances the best, who should leave the Big Brother house, that now we've got to vote on everything?

The irony, of course, is that actual voting - you know, that stuff you do at election time to decide who's going to run your country - is dropping because interest in politics is dwindling.  The trouble there, it seems, is that you can't just text in your vote, you have to go to the designated voting booth, say who you are, ensure it is an honest, democratic process.  So what this basically boils down to is people are okay about voting until you ask them to wear shoes.  Shoes is just too much effort.  Theoretically, if a political party were to stand on a platform of "We'll accept text votes" they would win, even if their spokesman was Hitler's dog.  Presumably, he'd stand for the constituency of Dagenham and Barking, or perhaps the Isle of Dogs.  In fairness, Hitler's dog probably knows more about politics than many politicians in the public eye whom I could mention.

Back to the starting point here, what is a poll about whether you think we'll see more swine flu going to prove?  "Well, it turns out that 97% of our readers think we won't see a second wave of killer disease swine flu, so that means you'll all be safe and no one will die.  Another triumph of text vote democracy over life-threatening disease.  Nice work, Metro readers."

They really should run a poll asking whether these polls mean anything.  That's one poll I'd vote in.  So long as I didn't have to wear shoes.

LET'S KISS AND MAKE-UP

So, the winner of the UK Air Guitar championships has just been announced.  Phew, am I glad that competition is finally over?!  Some guy pretends to play guitar for 60 seconds while an audience sits in judgement.  Yes, really.  As much as it pains me, I am not making this up...

http://www.airguitaruk.com/

See?!

Isn't this a rather insensitive competition?  You have no musical talent, you failed to buy a guitar to practice on, you've done none of the painstaking practice that is required to read music and master a musical instrument, and now you've entered yourself into a competition to show just how much effort you are willing to put into being utterly talentless?  Surely, whoever wins this competition is still a loser by any basic definition of the word?  "Yes, and we're proud to say you still can't play the guitar."

What does the winner get?  A million air pounds?  A pretend gold plated trophy of nothing?  A non-medal?

And who on Earth is judging this?  What do you need to qualify for that role?  A basic inability to play guitar?  Or perhaps, an air guitar judge has to be incompetent at their designated role - guitarist who can't play guitar gets judged by exceptionally indecisive person who takes days to make up their mind.

Rewarding people for their inability to do something offends me on some basic level.  Where does it all end?  If we're going to hand out meritorious awards to people who can't play guitar, why not hand out an award to the best pretend doctor for curing made-up cancer?  Why not give the Victoria Cross to the best not-war hero for doing nothing to save us from the not-Nazis?

Everyone's singing from the Hymn Sheet of double-think, my friend, and if you don't know the words they'll single you out - for an award.