Thursday, January 10, 2013

What if they'd been right?

No more shares. No more privacy controls. No more aggregation. No more unsolicited links. No more laughing out loud. No more plaintive Instagram posturing. No more guilt. No more flash mobs, photo bombing, hipster bashing. No more psychoanalysis. Jesus, no more tagging. No more four square, twitpics, no more 'can we share your current location?'

No more Royle Family Christmas specials, no more Jean Byrne. No more Katherine Lynch, and no more Homeland. No more preposterousness, networking, keeping up and falling behind. No more Masterchef, Man vs Food, Dobbo, no more Sky Sports News.

No more January transfer window. No more countdown clocks. No more Jeff Stelling, and no Merse. No more love. No more hate. No more Love/Hate. No more watercooler wet dreams. No more trees, sand, Oscar-baiting and no more Chevrolets.

No more Vodafone, no more customer service menus. No more stout. No more John Mulligan. No more mortgages, no more debt. No more hierarchy. No more death. No more ill fitted suits, union flags, or sociopathic taximen.

No more waiting for things to happen. No more hoping things don't happen. No more doorbells. No more gas bills. No more hope. No more despair.

No more haircuts. No more Bowie. No more Formula 1, and no more fucking Gangnam Style. No more Roddy Doyle, but no more Cecilia Ahern.

No more retweets, quoted tweets, double tweets, tweetweets, hyperlinks and, finally, no more bluster at all.


Kath Lockett said... what'll we do, then?

Radge said...

I wouldn't worry. They were wrong. World kept turning.