The year is 1983 and Dennis Internet is sat in his lounge sketching out his plans for what he envisaged as a method for computers to talk to each other over a virtual network. A communication system that would allow fellow beekeeping enthusiasts to share their cutting edge royal jelly making methods without picking up the phone or troubling their local stationers for a pen and paper. He finishes up by sending the worlds first ever bee-mail and then heads to the local hostelry to share these ground breaking ideas with his chums. Three pints of scrumpy into the session and Dennis can no longer keep his powder dry, he blurts out his thoughts to his drinking pals and they look on quizzically open mouthed and agog.
A young buck working behind the bar listened with interest and later that evening as he shared an intimate crispy duck platter with his housemate he divulged the details of the topic he had overheard. The next morning the barman left the house to campaign for Greenpeace and his housemate, Tim Berners-Lee, headed off to work with a new idea freshly tucked under his bonnet. Just A few years later the world wide web was up and running and the impudent Berners-Lee was accepting the acclaim for reformulating the world as we know it, scant consolation for Dennis that the pretend founding father of the information superhighway used his surname to title the new ‘invention’. To be fair had he used his own it might have been less catchy, I cant see as many people popping out for a skinny hazelnut latte and a browse of the web in a Berners-Lee café.
Thirty years on from Dennis Internet sharing his visionary thoughts the world wide web is a virtual cesss pit, the information sharing that was envisaged has been replaced by pornography, gambling and price comparsion websites. However like a parsnip sandwich served by a man with weeping sores on his hands the content stopped being the problem years ago. In the infancy of the web a tabloid “journalist” attempted to live for a week without leaving his house, using his computer to order everything that he needed to survive. He managed to order takeaway food and grocery shopping while finding the answer to anything else he needed via the medium of search engines. If that experiment was run again in 2013 it would look like this;
Spent morning on twitter arguing with a native Eskimo about the validity of whale hunting. Forgot lunch. Watched Miley Cyrus twerking on YouTube. Ordered lube from Ann Summers. Had a twix for tea. Watched a whole series of Rentaghost on Netflix. Fell asleep just after 4am.
Twitter account suspended for alleged anti Inuit remarks. Ordered a legal high from a Dutch gardening website. Lube arrived, watched Miley again on youtube. Fell asleep until 8pm. Opened a Google+ account. Played Farmville on Facebook, passed out just before 5am.
Woke up at midday, legal high arrived. Spent 6 hours staring at colourful hallucinations in the toilet while experiencing furious diarrhoea. Had 3 paracetamol for tea. Opened a new twitter account and Retweeted everything Louise Spence posted just to “do his head in”. Fell asleep at about 2:15.
Struggling to see out of left eye, probably the gardening drugs. Had Dairylea for lunch. Watched Miley Cyrus on YouTube , ordered anal beads from Anne Summers. Joined a facebook group called “Pictures of your ex-girlfirend”. Finished off lube. Watched 7 episodes of “The young ones” on Netflix.
Left eye completely closed and anal leakage becoming more frequent. Had 2 sachets of Lemsip for lunch washed down with a bottle of TCP. Anal beads arrived. Watched Miley Cyrus. Spent the afternoon following cricket on twitter. Opened an online betting account with William Hill, used £50 free bet on a horse called “tweet”. Joined a facebook group called “My nan’s ladygarden” used up all the Vaseline. Fell asleep just after 3:30am.
Right eye twitching heavily, left side of face numb. Put £500 on Gary Barlow to say the word “Spatchcock” on X Factor. Watched football results on twitter. Followed everyone from the cast of “Towie” and asked them all to Retweet me. Barlow didn’t say “Spatchcock”. Drank bottle of Old Spice aftershave. watched “A Field of dreams” on Netflix. Fell asleep crying.
Right eye fully closed, internet self diagnose suggests vaginal prolapse. Bet £750 on Prince Philip dying before 7pm. Watched Miley Cyrus, used up all the butter. Called Ringo Starr a nonce on twitter, police came to the house. Prince Philip didn’t die. Bought an eastern European bride off Cheaprussianwives.com. Using money Borrowed off a handy loans website. Collected by Paramedics at midnight.
The internet itself isn’t the problem it’s the way people use it and the astounding effect it has on some has been diagnosed as an illness by the British Medical Council. Over a 5 year period they have monitored a group of adults that have been exposed to a gradual increase in their internet usage and the findings are astonishing. Candidate 3 was a vicar In a small Buckinghamshire village at the start of the experiment. He listed his interests as Gardening, macrame, discovering new blends of tea and bee keeping but by the time he left the process they had changed to snuff movies, horse porn, spot betting, retweeting dub step dj’s, dwarf porn and playing candy crush.
These findings weren’t isolated, an accountant from Ludlow relinquished her choral singing for internet dating, dogging and reiki while an ice cream salesman from Lymm gave up home baking for a career in Cialis dealing and horse meat wholesaling. This personality changing condition has been known within medical circles as Batshitmentalitis but the recent furore caused by the mental patient Halloween costumes led to a rethink and it will now be known as Batshitmartinitis.
Reassuringly a team of medical scientists have begun dissecting what makes a seemingly normal person direct racist abuse at a footballer on twitter because he misses a penalty, what inspires someone to share the most minute and sometimes intimate details of their day with strangers and most importantly what makes the normal rules of social behaviour alter so dramatically in a virtual world. Less encouragingly the same team of scientists most recent discovery is that altering the temperature of semi-skimmed milk by half a degree makes very little difference to angel delight.
The serious nature of this apparent pandemic has led the NHS to issue seven golden rules that should be adhered to at all times;
1. Avoid posting pictures of your dinner on Instagram. No one cares what you have for tea.
2. Under no circumstances play Facebook games, FarmVille is the modern day syphilis.
3. Don’t disclose your banal daytime activities, folk nowadays prefer watching Jeremy Kyle.
4. Think carefully Before ‘liking’ a status. No-one ‘likes’ their grandparents dying.
5. Avoid substandard sites like Pinterest in a common sense way, you wouldn’t hire a unicorn to mow your lawn.
6. Never ever ever use the internet to self diagnose, Jeff from Wisconsin knows nothing about perineal tearing.
7. Always get foreign wives purchased from the internet thoroughly checked by a doctor for any signs of penis.
Apply this to friends as well in the same way that you might keep an eye on an elderly relative during the winter, if you notice any danger signs get into their houses and remove as many of their valuable goods as you can before they notice. The very fact that you have spent actual time reading this on some cobbled together half arsed ‘website’ does indicate it could be too late for you anyway.