Alright. I’d be the first to admit that I’m a crusty old git who finds it difficult to cope with the pace of change in the modern world. Don’t get me wrong I’ve tried. I played computer games up to the point where ‘Pong’ was superseded, I love my ATMs, and I know enough not to refer to them as ‘ATM machines’ any more. God knows, I’m practically married to my mobile phone.

The bloody thing is magic. It’s got sports, books, porn, the capacity to allow me to gamble all my money away in an instant, there’s even a button that allows me to travel through time.* In fact it does everything except make phone calls.

But there comes a point where even I throw my geriatric arms up in the air and cry dagnabit you young whippersnappers, can you just leave the fucking technology alone for one day? Seriously, the iphone 4 was just dandy. We didn’t need the iphone 5, and we sure as hell don’t need the iphone 6.

Yes I know you just love to go and sleep outside the store so you can be the first one to get the latest piece of whiz bang technology. Look at you with your fancy mobile phone apps that you invented and sold for a million bucks overnight. Well aren’t you something. What are you proving? Shave that hipster beard off, go out and get a real job, and get a girlfriend while you’re at it, you young punks.

Oh you have got a girlfriend. Is that her? Damn, she’s hot. Nice tatts, great tan and the boob job looks real.

Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that all this 24/7 access and attention seeking is going to lead you into a future of mental disorder when you learn that the world doesn’t revolve around you and your immediate needs. You are not a celebrity, despite what Andy Warhol said. The world doesn’t give a stuff about you, and once you’re over 21, it’s over pal. So unless you’re prepared to work hard and actually have a genuine talent, forget about it, Johnny Punchclock.

I got up in the middle of the night recently to answer the call of nature (oh yeah, don’t think you won’t have bowel issues when you’re older either) and as I walked past my teenage son’s room I heard these noises. So being a concerned parent I opened the door…

…He was talking to his friends on Facespace, or Mybook, or whatever you call it, because god forbid everybody needs to know what you are doing at 3.45am on a Wednesday morning! I mean when I was fourteen and my dad burst into my room in the middle of the night, at least I had the decency to just be masturbating.

Which leads me onto porn, as most things do. When I was a kid you couldn’t get access to porn. Your only hope was to find your old man’s secret non-contact girlie magazine collection (back of the cupboard dad god bless yer) or a sodden hand me down from some bigger kids in the bushes behind the school. Christ when I was a kid we would have cut our left arm off just for a glimpse of tit!

But now, it’s in your face, it’s ubiquitous, porn stars are mainstream celebrities. Hard core porn is so readily available at the click of a button that these days any eight year old can watch a dwarf fisting an amputee – and that is surely not a good thing, not a good thing at all.

I worry about the future, now where did I put my damn glasses?

*This is bullshit. I made it up.