Was I suffering from an undiagnosed case of ADHD? Not really – I simply wanted to see what Twitter thought. Rare is the programme, these days, that’s compelling enough to watch on its own. Instead, I find myself glancing down at my phone or computer – the “Twitter machines”, as Sir Tom Stoppard called them this week – to see what my friends, and their friends, are making of it.
When I mentioned this phenomenon to one of my colleagues, he was horrified. A year ago, I’d have been with him. But then I found myself at a friend’s while The X Factor was on. I said something not particularly funny about one of the glitter-strewn mediocrities on screen, and someone tweeted it. Offended, I whipped out my phone to reclaim authorship of the gag. Soon, the room resounded to the sound of clacking keys, as all of us took to the Twittersphere to share our bons mots, joining in the vast communal bitching session.
To those who haven’t signed up, or aren’t following the right people, it’s impossible to explain the fun of the experience. It’s as if every show is accompanied by an instant director’s commentary, produced by people much wittier than you – and much, much wittier than the people on screen.
It’s also changing our viewing habits, and not necessarily for the worse. True, it makes watching a foreign series such as Borgen a rather frenzied experience, as your eyes flicker desperately between the gags on the small screen and the subtitles on the big one. But it’s also drawn a new audience to Question Time, who use the boring stuff in the studio as a springboard for a far more interesting debate online. I’m not expecting everyone to understand the appeal. But if the country is becoming divided into the tweeters and the tweet-nots, I know who’s having more fun.
Mind you, there’s also plenty of proof that the internet – and modern life, in general – is sending society to hell in a handcart. Look at the Oxford dons quoted on our pages yesterday, moaning about the inadequacies of their students. In a tone of waspish despair, they observed that the efforts of these “tyro deconstructionists” leave a distinct sense of “undeveloped critical thought”, as well as “intellectual thinness”. Many are prone to “haphazard and random generalisations”. Among those studying Old English, “names were badly mangled… the tendency was, if in doubt, to call everyone Aelfric”.
It’s not just the best and brightest. On the TV quiz show Pointless (a minor addiction of mine), the answers are based on polling 100 members of the public. Routinely, the results reveal such staggering levels of ignorance as to make Jordan look like A S Byatt. For one survey – admittedly, taken before the recent unpleasantness – people were asked to name as many chancellors of Germany as they could. Eighty-five per cent drew a complete blank. Fifteen came up with Angela Merkel, and 10 with Helmut Kohl. Poor old Gerhard Schröder had lodged in the mind of only one of the 100. As for Brandt, Erhard, Schmidt et al? Fuhgeddaboudit. If Michael Gove can sort that out, good luck to him.
---------------
Going slightly upmarket, the New Yorker recently reviewed a hip new joint in Greenwich Village called Whitehall, a high-end restaurant serving mushy peas, marmalade cocktails and London Pride. There’s just one problem: the head chef is Australian. The locals don’t seem to mind, but I can’t help feeling that if a Brit tried to lay claim to kangaroo carpaccio with shrimp and Vegemite purée, there’d be hell to pay.
http://achuke.com/bookmarks/view/2198/ford-fusion-gets-new-design-for-2013-nascar-season
http://community.healthimaginghub.com/bookmarks/view/685/ford-fusion-gets-new-design-for-2013-nascar-season
http://binyat.com/bookmarks/view/990/ford-fusion-gets-new-design-for-2013-nascar-season
http://www.foodbloggers.it/social/bookmarks/view/284/ford-fusion-gets-new-design-for-2013-nascar-season