It’s never been easier to trace a person than it is today. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and distress flare, you name it, it’s got a beady eye on you.For the main part, I’m happy with that. I don’t even mind the fact that I can see, in scary detail, where I have been via Google tracking the movements of my phone. It’s “fun surveillance” and we’ve all bought into it.
I can see where you’ve had lunch, what you had for lunch and whether or not you enjoyed it. I’m OK with being watched because I’m dull and not a criminal, so fill your boots, Big Brother. You’ll be bored with it before I will, I can assure you of that. I am a wiggly line that leads to Portslade before wobbling back to Brighton. Fascinating.
So, anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, picking modernity to pieces. So, I haven’t seen a certain bloke for almost 20 years and the very last time that I saw him, he threatened to stick a knife between my ribs. He was a fun chap to hang out with but I’m afraid that I had to put a bit of space between us and never see him again. Hence the two decades of stab free existence. It’s been fabulous. However, I was watching a reasonably good film on DVD a few days ago, and my phone started making a noise that I had never heard before. The film was paused and I took a look. It was old Stabby himself, using the Facebook messenger app and trying to talk to me. He rang off before I had a chance to cut him off and then……there he was again. A blast from the distant past attempting to reestablish contact. I haven’t seen him since the 20th Century and I dealt him a 21st Century blow. I blocked him. He no longer exists, he is a cheesy memory. I wasn’t going to allow that git to spoil the film any more than Tom Cruise was already doing. He can get stuffed.
It was almost too easy. He has no further way of finding out where I am. Maybe I should have spoken to him and heard him out. The chances are that he has completely forgotten about his desire to murder me on that Sunday evening, so long ago.He may have matured into a reasonable human being in the years since last we met but equally, he may have developed wicked Kendo skills and is looking for someone to twat with a stick. I’m unlikely to find out. Right, I’m off to take a selfie whilst having a cornetto.