So I'm sat here on my laptop, somehow connected to the internet. How on earth has this happened? The fat of the matter is that I am not connected at all. My bum is connected to the sofa, my feet are connected to the floor, my laptop is connected to my thighs, and nothing else. How then, can it be that this machine is connected to the tinterweb?
Now, clearly there are boffins out there who could explain this to me (Or are there? I have never met them; have you? Perhaps we place too much trust in these so called 'experts'. Do we not attribute absolute factual status to a notion, when we hear that Dr Suchandsuch or Professor Bloggs has arrived at a certain conclusion? It seems to me we attach almost superhuman levels of reliability to the words of men with some letters after their name. I can categorically confirm that such letters do not liberate a man of his mortality, or fallibility. Why should we treat what they say with any less scepticism than something said by, say, a vicar? One for the atheists there... I have digressed, but I imagine I will return to this at some point)
Anyhow, it remains a fairly safe assumption that there are people who know what is going on around me provide me with the old double-you double-you double-you, but I shall remain in blissful ignorance.
Perhaps there are websites whirling round my head like flies around a tramp. Perhaps that faint whirring I can hear is the internal combustion of a search engine. (Is there an actual engine making them work, boffins?) Perhaps that quiet giggling I can hear is the lying, deceitful Wikipedia, fluttering by my left ear, gleefully lying to a researching student, earning them a stern 'I told you so' from the teacher, and robbing Johnny student of his marks. Perhaps.
Anyroad, I'm off to make a cup of tea now, hopefully I won't bash my head off BBC iplayer on the way.