The future moves very fast. Maybe a bit too fast?

Sometimes, I imagine what would happen if I travelled back in time by forty years or so. I do this occasionally, and wonder what I could do. Sometimes, I'd imagine I would find my parents and give them a list of every massive company to invest in and when, and how I'd convince them I was serious and not just an escaped lunatic. I then try and imagine quite how I'd explain how my phone works to someone who has only just seen the emergence of holograms, or how a fancy touchscreen works when the most advanced thing they own are flared trousers and a moustache. They'd not get where the curly wire was hidden, what an Internet was and if having something called a "face-book" app meant I was a stalker. Then, they'd rip the thing to pieces wondering where you put in the film for the camera. To say they'd be confused and scared is an understatement; this is a generation that thought Jim Davidson was funny and that colour TV was showing off. How confused would they be? Well, what would you say if someone turned up with , say, an iJumper that changed colour depending on your mood, or thickness depending on prevailing weather conditions? It'd blow your tiny mind, wouldn't it? What about an iPen that doubled up as nail clippers, or allowed you to turn the volume down on the TV? Think that's a silly use for a pen? Well, I bet Mr 1972 thought that a thesaurus, piano and a torch would be pointless on a telephone, but mine has all three, and more!

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After Defeating The iArgonauts, My Phone Is Now Here!

Imagine the trickiest thing you had to do? The most baffling task in the world ever? Maybe it's all the guy readers out there, and it's that awkward and shaming moment when you must surrender your will and dignity to a stranger, and stop and ask directions? Maybe it's that awkward moment when you know a really long and impressive word, just not when you're trying to use it in a sentence? All you can do is sit there and say "oh-god-I-know-this-I-know-this". Maybe you've ended up at a school reunion, and you're trying to think of a good reason why you're not president of the world yet? I mean, you'll get round to it eventually, only you have other made-up projects in the way. All very difficult things. However, I've managed to claim victory over a challenge that fate itself seemed doggedly determined to thwart me at every turn, to defeat me with awkward timing, and to lure me into a false sense of security. Yes, finally I can say: I've received my eye-fone!

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Some People Seem To Just Make It Up As They Go.

The other day someone telephoned me to ask me a question about manners and customs. I know I know, I'm sure it happens to you guys all the time, right? Anywhoo, I'm asked about what can only be abbreviated to "takeaway etiquette", and the premise is this: this person had invited a friend round for a delivery from the Maharajah House, and she had sent him an email before-hand to remind the friend to bring the cash as apparently they've got a bit of a rep for forgetting their pennies when they go scoff a korma. What followed was a phone call from the friend to say how "disappointed" he was that he'd been asked to pay. He'd got it into his head that if you invite someone round for a takeaway, that the host is obliged to pay. This wasn't even a case of "I thought that the host paid", it was a definite "No! You're wrong".

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