Watch Out For Big Mother

I'M not a Luddite. Technology holds no fears for me. I am an expert. In fact, I have one of those reading thingies - you know, find book on interweb, press "buy me" button, book magically appears on oblong thingy where you can read it. 

But what's all this CCTV business? I had a quick dash around the shops the other day and felt like a contestant on a city-wide Big Brother programme.

I want to be able to wander around without the terrible feeling that there's a man in a peaked cap somewhere with his feet up on a console pointing at a screen and saying, "Euuuhhh, look at 'er, she's scratching her ass!" to some friend he's charged a pound to come and watch.

Or worse there's a panel of judgmental women sitting in front of a screen saying things like: "What is wrong with that woman? Flowery shopping bag with stripy trousers and a baggy jacket? Is she stuck in the 1980s? And her make-up! She's desperately in need of a Youtube tutorial."

All that is bad enough but now they have talking CCTV cameras. Can you imagine it?

"Would that woman please stop picking her nose?" The whole street stops and we all look at each other. "The one in the stripy trousers." That narrows it down a bit.

"The old bag with frizzy hair and a gormless look on her face." Why are they all looking at ME!

Or they might employ mothers to man the cameras.

"Put that sweater down! I could feed a family of nine for a year on how much that costs. There's a button missing on your coat. Those ear-rings do not go with that necklace. Stilettos? To go shopping? Are you MAD! I don't believe it, you're chewing gum in public! I told you to throw away that scruffy cardigan. Are you growing your hair or have you just not bothered to have it cut? Have you washed behind your ears?"

I'll take Big Brother over Big Mother any day.

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