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“I haven’t been this excited about a technological breakthrough since they invented the dish scrubber with the washing-up liquid inside it…”

Until quite recently, I was very pernickety about punctuality. Your punctuality. If you were five minutes late, I’d be strumming my fingers on the tabletop when you arrived. Ten minutes and I’d be shooting you the old stink eye. Twenty minutes and I’d have prepared a short monologue in which I outlined all your deficiencies as a friend and a human being. Yeah, I was kind of a hard ass. So have I mellowed in my old age? Have I in my hole. No, someone gave me an iPhone for my birthday. I’m not sure if you’ve heard about these things. I had myself only the haziest conception of what they do. Basically, it’s a mobile phone you can use to surf the internet. I’ll repeat that. It’s a mobile phone you can use to surf the internet.

Holy crap, I haven’t been this excited about a technological breakthrough since they invented the dish scrubber with washing-up liquid inside it. And this is about forty million times better! So take your time, my tardy friends. The only caveat is that, when you get here, you’d better be at least interesting as the fucking internet. Otherwise, I don’t need you.

The emergence of new technology constantly alters the paradigm in which we exist. And there’s no point looking to the older generation for guidance. My late father’s most profound rumination on the subject of technology came during the six o’clock news one evening. “I’ll say one thing for these paedophiles,” he said, shaking his head. “They’re great on computers. Jesus, I can barely send an email.”

There’s no opting out either. I have a friend who refuses to buy a mobile phone. I bumped into him the other day. Are you around for a pint, Saturday? he asked. I shrugged. He’d be in Mulligans, he said. Then Grogans. Then The Cobblestone. If he went anywhere else, he’d leave a message with one of the barmen on the way.

What planet living on? This isn’t Treasure Hunt. I’m not fucking Anneka Rice. We never did catch up for that drink.

Facebook is another hornet’s nest. The other day, it suggested I make friends with a girl I’ve known since we were four years old. We were in school together and even have something like 52 Facebook friends in common. I was about to press ‘Add’, when something occurred to me. If Facebook thinks I should be friends with her, it presumably thinks she should be friends with me too. My photo is popping up in the corner of her screen and she’s ignoring me.

That stuck up bitch. I never liked her. And the next time I run into her, I’m giving her the stink eye to end all stink eyes. You mark my words!