Times are hard. Really hard. I lost my chauffeur; apparently he can make more money back in his old job as Head of Obstetrics at Kraków General Infirmary. My housekeeper murmurs about never having time to work on her Uzbek translation of The Great Gatsby and my landscape gardener hints he will take a job conducting the Sofia Philharmonic unless I give him a pay rise. Nine of my ten favourite grant-making government quangos have closed. As a consequence, I was fearing that I might have to take a proper job when my academic bursary runs out in a few months. The Cultural Studies Department at Southampton Solent University is paying me to research why people find Lenny Henry funny. I do not imagine they will extend the bursary again; it has been ten years now, and I am still no closer to finding an answer. I needed money and there was nothing else for it. I had to call on the initiative and imagination of my favourite clone, MaV-Eric. So I climbed up the loft ladder and sought him out…

Eric: Hell-ooohhh? MaV-Eric, what are you up to?

MaV-Eric: I’m designing a portable refrigeration unit powered by solar cells.

Eric: That’s brilliant! For use in Africa, right? So doctors can keep their medicines cool.

MaV-Eric: I was thinking more of picnickers at Glyndebourne and places like that. [Grabs a working model to demonstrate.] Look – this unit is exactly the right shape and volume to take a 500ml tub of Häagen-Dazs. And this one is for a magnum…

Eric: …looks a bit big for a choc-ice on a stick…

MaV-Eric: … of champagne, you silly.

Eric: Well, that’s great. Do you have any orders?

MaV-Eric: No. I need some seed capital to make some more prototypes first.

Eric: Well don’t look at me. Actually, I came up here because I was hoping you’d start giving me some money for a change.

MaV-Eric: Oh, it’s like that, is it? First you bring me into this cruel world, then you lock me in the attic like some demented relative you’re ashamed of, then you throw me out to fend for myself.

Eric: I’m not throwing you out. I want you to come back and pay rent.

MaV-Eric: Alright. But I’ve spent my entire life stuck in this loft, isolated from the outside world, with no practical experience of how to do anything, no sense of priorities and spending my days making up peculiar fantasies that bear no relationship to truth or reality. What kind of business needs people like me?

Eric: Advertising.

MaV-Eric: Great! When do I start?

I was heartened by MaV-Eric’s enthusiasm, and immediately called my old school chum Brendan ‘Nosey’ Parker, who is the sleeping partner in a successful market research firm based in central London. Parker said he was glad to help, but first MaV-Eric would have to be interviewed by his very-wide-awake partner, a Ms. Claire Z. Perkins…

[MaV-Eric bursts into the pristine reception of Perkins and Parker, out of breath and looking dishevelled.]

MaV-Eric: I’m so sorry that I’m late. My train was delayed.

Receptionist: May I help you, sir? Do you have an appointment?

MaV-Eric: Erm, yes [straightens himself up] My name’s MaV-Eric. I’m here to see Mrs. Perkins.

Receptionist: [Flicks through her notes] Yes, you are late, aren’t you? Your interview was scheduled three hours ago. And it’s Ms. Perkins, not Mrs. Perkins.

MaV-Eric: Oh, I can explain. I was on a very long train.

Receptionist: That makes no sense. Why should the train be delayed by three hours just because it is long?

MaV-Eric: Because it was the wrong train. The train I wanted was much shorter.

Receptionist: [Sneering] And something tells me you’ve had a wasted journey. [She gestures at the comfy chairs in the reception area.] Take a seat.

MaV-Eric: Where?

Receptionist: I beg your pardon?

MaV-Eric: Where should I take it?

Receptionist: Nowhere. It was a figure of speech. Now, if you don’t mind, please stand in the corner, facing the wall, and try not to make any noise.

[MaV-Eric does exactly as he is told, standing silently in the corner.]

[Claire Perkins walks in, wearing a crisp white blouse, dark skirt and knee-length leather boots. She is carrying a large envelope.]

Perkins: Stacey, have this Fed Ex’d to Hong Kong [she hands the envelope to the receptionist and turns to leave...]

Receiptionist: Your 11.30 has finally arrived [points at MaV-Eric].

Perkins: [Walks over to MaV-Eric] We didn’t think you’d show. Come with me.

[Perkins briskly walks away, taking long, confident strides in her boots. MaV-Eric hurries to catch-up. They walk across an open plan office which is strangely empty, towards a glass-walled committee room at the far end. In the room, a dozen twenty- and thirty-somethings sit patiently and quietly, dressed in casual designer wear. Behind Perkins' back, MaV-Eric opens his mouth as if to speak...]

Perkins: [Lifts her hand alongside the side of her face, as if it signal stop. Without breaking stride or turning around she says...] No talk. Just sit at the back and be a good boy whilst we have this meeting. But pay attention because I’ll ask you questions later. I want to test your attention span.

[She arrives at the committee room door, and turns to grab the handle and face back towards MaV-Eric.]

Perkins: I can’t abide people who can’t concentrate. Understand?

[MaV-Eric nods. She holds the door open and he scurries through, looking for a chair at the back of the room. Perkins stands at the front of the room and takes charge.]

Perkins: Well, I suppose we’ve all been pretty complacent since we won the Tesco Value Highland Spring Water contract. Me included. But we can’t go on resting on our laurels. Have you seen this report? Let me read from it:

“Since the invention of the telephone, an alert or ‘ring‐back’ tone has been played to the calling party when calls are placed. This continues while the caller waits for the call to be answered. The typical sound of a ring‐back tone is a staccato or steady tone, letting the caller know that the call is being connected. During this time the caller is typically alert and silent waiting for the call to be answered. In fact, it is arguably one of the few times in our modern and hectic lives when we provide our undivided attention to one task. A ring‐back tone (“RBT”) is idle time with a captive audience (the inbound caller), and since the early 2000’s has been repurposed by many mobile operators for music and other kinds of audio entertainment content. Marketing and advertising messages can be distributed through RBT and the first several of these ‘Ad‐RBT’ services launched in 2008 in North America, Europe, and Asia. Ad‐RBT represents one of the most compelling and scalable new media platforms in recent history.”

[Perkins slams the report down on the end of the committee table.]

Perkins: So what do you all have to say about that?

Fattish black bloke wearing a khaki cardigan near the front: We’re very sorry.

Perkins: Good answer. So you should be. I pay you people to find new ways to ensure advertising is crammed into every waking moment of the lives of every living person, whether they like it or not. And for not one, but two years we’ve been sleepwalking whilst our competitors pipe adverts to people whilst they wait to book a table for dinner, when they call to make a dentist’s appointment, even whilst they wait to complain about the poor quality of their phone service. Millions of hours of captive advertising time, and we’ve not been exploiting it! We’re behind, people. We’re behind and I don’t want to be behind. [She points at her bottom.] I want to be ahead. [She points at her head]. Ideas should come from here [points at her head] and not from here [points at her bottom]. So give me ideas and give me them fast. I’m looking to you – my creative team – to generate some modest proposals. We need new ways to fill people’s lives with more advertising. [Clicks her fingers impatiently.] Come on!

Fattish bloke: Advertising messages cut into thin strips so it can be stuck and seen on the staircases of public buildings.

Perkins: Been done before.

Mousy woman: Billboards that rotate so that you get three messages instead of just one.

Perkins: Old hat.

Fattish bloke: Paint the underbellies of passenger jets.

Perkins: You need to look up once in a while. Another idea that’s been done already.

Tall nerd: Solar powered advertising on the side of street bins. We give them to the council for free but keep the rights to change the ads…

Perkins: [Angry] Don’t you watch Dragon’s Den?

[There is a long silence as the junior execs look around at each other and are unable to think of what to say.]

Perkins: You’re all pathetic. All bottom feeders. Or bottom talkers. One or the other [sighs]. Hey, you at the back [points at MaV-Eric]. Are you paying attention? Are you listening to the drivel these nincompoops are coming out with?

MaV-Eric: Yes, yes I am. May I make some suggestions?

Perkins: [Laughs] Why not? I don’t see how you could do any worse.

MaV-Eric: String in alphabetti spaghetti.

Perkins: Excuse me?

MaV-Eric: Put edible string in alphabetti spaghetti. String the letters together in a specific order. That way they can be used to spell out messages like “drink Coke” or “eat at Subway”.

Perkins: Hmmm… interesting.

MaV-Eric: Glow in the dark messages on clothes people wear at nightclubs. When they go out dancing, the UV light will reveal the advertising messages on the backs of their shirts and jackets.

Perkins: You might be on to something.

MaV-Eric: Adverts on ice lolly sticks. Instead of some terrible old joke, give a recommendation for some sweets or a toy that kids might like.

Perkins: Go on.

MaV-Eric: Sponsored hotel ceilings.

Perkins: Sorry?

MaV-Eric: So when you wake, the first thing you see is the advertising message on the ceiling.

Perkins: I like it.

MaV-Eric: Sponsored pillow cases.

Perkins: In case you sleep face down.

MaV-Eric: Exactly.

Perkins: What else?

MaV-Eric: The automated voices that tell you the name of the next stop on public transport – also have them say: “this message was brought to you by…” at the end.

Perkins: That might work.

MaV-Eric: Wine glasses in restaurants. When you finish your drink, you discover the advert written in the bottom of the glass. Something like: “why not order another bottle?” or “you’re drunk, better call this number for a cab to take you home”.

Perkins: That would work.

MaV-Eric: Sponsored Blackpool Rock. Instead of reading ‘Blackpool’ it reads ‘Eat at Nando’s’ instead. Anyone who buys the rock gets the price reimbursed when they order a meal from Nando’s.

Perkins: Niche, but I like it.

MaV-Eric: School uniforms. Just like football shirts, they should boast a sponsor.

Perkins: That’s a potentially huge market.

MaV-Eric: Genetically modified butterflies. Change the wing markings to carry logos, like the golden arches of McDonald’s or the Nike swoosh.

Perkins: I could imagine it might be a while before we’ve perfected that technique, but like you say, some big businesses might be interested in investing in that idea. Do go on.

MaV-Eric: Pizza toppings. Get a five percent discount from Domino’s if you let them arrange the pepperoni to spell out the name of a TV show you might want to watch whilst eating your pizza.

Perkins: I like the way that reverses the cross-marketing flow.

MaV-Eric: Condoms.

Perkins: Excuse me?

MaV-Eric: You only get to read the message when they’ve been unrolled, so to speak.

Perkins: You’d need to keep the message short, just in case.

MaV-Eric: Pre-trained budgerigars. They come cheaper from the pet shop because they’re already trained to repeat ten advertising slogans.

Perkins: Talking birds – an idea that definitely has some potential. Anything else?

MaV-Eric: Just one more idea: tattoos.

Perkins: Oh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. People will tend to cover up and then you would never see the marketing message, unless you tattooed the message on somebody’s face, and some might find that off-putting…

MaV-Eric: No, you don’t understand. I meant tattooing the inside of people’s eyelids so they see the advert whenever they close their eyes.

Perkins: I think we can safely say that you’ve got the job.

That was how, thanks to MaV-Eric and his genius for advertising, my money worries were all solved. Though I must admit I find that the tattoos on my eyelids get quite itchy…

Jazz astounds
Jazz confounds
Jazz rebounds betwixt the soul and the bones
Perpetual motion in search of a home
Never at rest
Aural physics of the blessed

Jazz resounds
As Mr. Marsalis and his crew pours wine into my ears
Is it red? white? or blue?
Both hot and cool

Keys unlocked
Sharp, not flat
Arranged anarchy
Melodious insanity

Jazz abounds
Notes without end
Improvisation’s bending of imagination
To spontaneous combustion

Poetry as sounds
Jazz can’t get enough

Imagine the scene. You have had a hard enough day already, captured by the enemy after karate chopping and shooting just about as many as was humanly possible. You are strapped to a table top that is actually a massive block of gold. Then the baddie fires up a huge laser which inches its way up towards your ‘nads. Not a pleasant way to die, but it does at least give rise to the immortal lines:

“Do you expect me to talk?”

“No Mr. Bond, I expect you to die!“

And here is that scene again, from the classic Bond movie Goldfinger…

Bond baddies have a penchant for exotic and overly complicated ways of killing people. When they capture Bond, the baddies then turn their backs, close their eyes and count to one hundred to see if Bond escapes… which he invariably does. However, the most recent Bond movies, starring Daniel Craig, are sadly lacking baddies with the same imaginative flair for exterminating the only secret agent who needs no introduction. In Quantum of Solace, the evil Dominic Greene tries to kill bond with an axe. An axe?!? How pathetic. If I was Bond’s nemesis, I would aim to finish him off with a real sense of over-the-top style. Here is my top five of bizarre Bond butchery that neverwas but shouldvebeen.

5. Bondue Fondue

This is much like the Goldfinger laser beam scenario, except Bond is strapped to an enormous block of Red Leicester which is being slowly fed into a giant mechanized grater. Just to be on the safe side, whatever makes it out the other side is melted down and eaten with some nice fresh bread.

4. Card Sharp

I face Bond across the Baccarat table. The croupier deals the cards and as he does, I shout ‘Hey Bond, look at that sexy bird behind you!’ Bond is not fooled but it does not matter anyway. I grab the mechanized card shuffler and fire a stream of razor thin, diamond tipped cards straight at his chest. Ironically, his heart is punctured not by the Jack of Hearts, but by the Seven of Clubs, which proves to be non-lethal. As Bond is pulling the card out and trying to regain his composure, I beat him to death with seven juggling clubs purloined from the circus act appearing in the casino’s stage show.

3. A Brake from the Norm

Bond and I are driving side by side, at speed, down a winding Swiss mountain road. The front passenger side wheel of my car contains a flamethrower, which is of no use as Bond’s car proves to be fireproof. Luckily, I told the garage mechanic to tamper with Bond’s brakes when he took his Aston Martin in for its MOT earlier that day. Unluckily, the mechanic was a double agent and he tampered with mine whilst I was waiting for my MOT. Unfazed by my inability to stop, I just crash into the hillside and let my air bags save me. Bond parks up and checks to see if I am alive. As he walks towards me, my henchman leaps out of his pre-arranged hiding place and steals Bond’s car. Flummoxed, Bond runs after him, losing his footing on a patch of black ice, causing him to slide right off the mountainside. As he falls, Bond saves himself from a sheer drop by grabbing hold of some shrubs whose weak roots are barely strong enough to bear his weight. I open the boot of my car and pull out my pet albino goat, which obediently climbs down and eats the shrubs, causing Bond to fall to his death.

2. Spicy Peparami

According to the adverts, the hottest version of this salted pork sausage snack product is considered to be hot enough that anyone eating it would agree that it tastes quite hot. To fool Bond, I first offer him the spicy Peparami, then a cooling glass of water. The ice cubes in the water have been made with a deadly toxin at their core. As they melt the poison is subtly released, making the odour and taste of the poison difficult to detect. Of course, Bond will still detect the poison with his exceedingly well-trained nose, which is why this plan is a double-bluff. The real aim is to wait until Bond sticks his hooter in the glass and starts sniffing around, and when he is thoroughly distracted doing that, I pull out a gun and shoot him.

1. Never Say Die

In this scenario, I live a virtuous life and never break the law. I never drop litter and I attend church on Sundays. Frustrated, there is nothing Bond can do to stop me spending my days in such dull pursuits that the Archbishop of Canterbury seems like a lascivious smackhead in comparison. Forty years go by and Bond dies of old age and boredom. Hah! Let him try to escape that fate…

Time was that if you wanted a manual for manners, you simply turned to a guide from Debrett’s. With the rise of interweb and netiquette, life is no longer so simple, though Debrett’s still try to give advice on civility in the age of cybersurfing. Take this suggestion they make about email:

Emails will often be printed and filed, and therefore close attention must be paid to layout. Again, treating the construction of an email just as you would a ‘real’ letter is the most effective approach.

Okay. The subtext seems to be not to bother backing up your hard drive. Instead, just devote a wing of your mansion to a library of print-outs of all those one line emails containing links to YouTube videos of cats falling off TVs. But the real question is, when filing your printed emails, should the leather binder be green or red?

So, forget Debrett’s. They are stuck in a timewarp when people needed to know if they should hit their manservant with the back of their hand or with their walking cane. Where else can we turn? There is one obvious answer: the internet. Stop! They let anyone on the internet. And the internet hosts elitists that make the people who write Debrett’s books look like hippy-hugging commies, except the internet elitists think good protocol means knowing your TCP from your IP. Take a look at some of the advice someone at the Internet Engineering Task Force came up with on a wet Wednesday afternoon whilst their modem was busy downloading the latest data on matter-antimatter asymmetry from CERN:

In the past, the population of people using the Internet had “grown up” with the Internet, were technically minded, and understood the nature of the transport and the protocols. Today, the community of Internet users includes people who are new to the environment. These “Newbies” are unfamiliar with the culture and don’t need to know about transport and protocols.

Hmmm… so there was a point in time when there was nobody new on the internet, was there? That must have been one heck of a change freeze. “Please sir, I’d like to use the internet” “No son, you can’t. It’s full and there won’t be room for anyone new to use it until Spring 1993 at earliest.”

Perhaps the newbies could have told the old fogies of the internet one or two things about other kinds of protocol. For example there is the language convention that says a “newbie” is not a proper name and should not start with a capital letter, or the one that says written language should not contain contractions like “don’t”.

But it is an understatement to say the self-appointed sages of the IETF were poor at predicting the future of propriety. Here are some examples…

Respect the copyright on material that you reproduce. Almost every country has copyright laws.

And every country has millions of people who think those laws are a joke and break them every day.

Never send chain letters via electronic mail. Chain letters are forbidden on the Internet. Your network privileges will be revoked.

Another rule that was completely missed by its intended audience.

Remember that people with whom you communicate are located across the globe. If you send a message to which you want an immediate response, the person receiving it might be at home asleep when it arrives. Give them a chance to wake up, come to work, and login before assuming the mail didn’t arrive or that they don’t care.

And some of those people may not even be Americans and they may not even speak English, which rather dents the usefulness of this Californian clot’s list of internet conventions.

Verify all addresses before initiating long or personal discourse. It’s also a good practice to include the word “Long” in the subject header so the recipient knows the message will take time to read and respond to. Over 100 lines is considered “long”.

Another stipulation that did not catch on. And 100 lines is not considered long by me. For me, 100 lines is considered “brief”. That is because I have more to tell people than my thoughts on what is polite use of the internet. Except for right now, obviously.

It is extremely bad form to simply reply to a message by including all the previous message: edit out all the irrelevant material.

Hah. This could only be written by someone who never had to reply to one of my 10,000 line blockbusters.

Since the Internet spans the globe, remember that Information Services might reflect culture and life-style markedly different from your own community. Materials you find offensive may originate in a geography which finds them acceptable. Keep an open mind.

Like how I should keep an open mind when some American tries to dictate what is good manners on the internet.

If a user is using a nickname alias or pseudonym, respect that user’s desire for anonymity.

Tell that to the Chinese government – a good example of a culture unwilling to toe the American line.

Don’t point to other sites without asking first.

Darn! I pointed to this IETF guide before I read it.

Any time you engage in One-to-Many communications, all the rules for mail should also apply. After all, communicating with many people via one mail message or post is quite analogous to communicating with one person with the exception of possibly offending a great many more people than in one-to-one communication. Therefore, it’s quite important to know as much as you can about the audience of your message.

I should get to know the whole world. Nice idea. Difficult in practice.

Don’t badger other users for personal information such as sex, age, or location. After you have built an acquaintance with another user, these questions may be more appropriate, but many people hesitate to give this information to people with whom they are not familiar.

True, but not everyone…

Author’s Address

Sally Hambridge
Intel Corporation
2880 Northwestern Parkway
SC3-15
Santa Clara, CA 95052

Phone: 408-765-2931
Fax: 408-765-3679
EMail: sallyh@ludwig.sc.intel.com

Those were the days… nobody would send you spam because you could rely on everyone to follow the rule that said

Don’t send large amounts of unsolicited information to people.

But enough of pulling apart poor Sally’s guidelines for the Newbies of the ‘Net. Here are five top 21st Century etiquette questions not addressed by Debrett’s, Hambridge, or anyone else that I know of (except they probably have, but who put them in charge?)

1. How To Sign Off an Instant Message Chat With Someone Who Does Not Know When to Stop

You know the scenario. You have chatted away for thirty minutes but your RSI is flaring up and you really really need a pee. So you want to stop but the other person keeps on going…

X: Thanks for the chat, bye.

Y: We need to catch up about that thing. When is good for you?

X: Anytime. Laters.

Y: Cool. Wasn’t Derek impressive giving that presentation?

X: Sure. Got to go.

Y: Yup, see you later. Do you have a copy of Derek’s presentation you can send me?

X: Don’t think so. Sorry. Adios.

Y: It’s been so cool catching up. We should do drinks sometime soon.

X: Yeah, totally. Ciao.

Y: How about tomorrow night?

So by now you have wet your pants and there is no end in sight. What should you do? Is the answer:

(A) Just stop typing. You can always pretend your PC crashed if challenged about it.

(B) Write something shockingly offensive. With luck that will mean one less bozo to annoy you in future.

(C) Call your interlocutor. Chances are he or she is scared of talking on the telephone and they will hang up as soon as possible.

2. What to Do When Your Mobile Phone Battery Dies During a Call

Your loved one is fed up with you because you were once again working late. You are stuck at the platform trying to work out which train is least delayed so you can answer when you will be home for dinner… but before you do, the phone goes dead. That means your better half is bound to assume you just hung up and they will be in a really foul mood when you do eventually make it back. Do you…

(A) Keep pressing your mobile phone’s ‘on’ button in the hope you will have enough juice to text the word “sorry”.

(B) Rummage through your small change and hope there is a payphone within five miles of where you are.

(C) Decide to go down the pub. You might as well take advantage of the fact that the evening will not be interrupted by calls asking where you are.

3. The Blog Comment as Personal Message

Your blog is really popular and gets comments from all sorts of people you do not know. To keep the spam under control, you monitor all comments before they are published. A new comment comes in from someone new. It is not really a comment, but is more of a personal message where the person tells you about themselves and why you should get in touch. How do you respond?

(A) Approve the comment and then post your own comment slagging off anyone who is too stupid or lazy to use the email form in the ‘contact me’ page you went to all that trouble to make.

(B) Reject the comment and do not reply. Whoever it is, he or she must be an idiot.

(C) You have another fan!! Write them a personal email and give them your home phone number too.

4. Dealing With RSS Scoundrels

Your really popular blog is really really popular. It is so popular that some rascal is syndicating your RSS feed and milking your clever content for his own profit. How do you deal with him?

(A) Let him be. It means more people get to enjoy reading your inspiring words.

(B) Switch off the RSS feed. It is yours and nobody can use it without your permission.

(C) Write a script that floods your RSS feed with unfettered and incessant swearing. That will really burn the guy who tried to take advantage of your brilliant material. Sure, it might offend some regular readers, but then again, it will teach them a lesson for not visiting the site properly so they can hit all those click-through ads for matchmaking sites and spread betting.

5. Internet Forum Multi-Answers

You sign up for this great new discussion forum where everyone thinks like you and shares your passions. Then, as always, you realize the forum is full of imbeciles who think the opposite of you and have the world upside-down and back-to-front. You need to straighten them out by showing them the error of their ways. But there are so many different forum users who you need to educate. Should you…

(A) Write a string of posts that individually deal with each and every goof, gaffe and piece of garbage, thus instantly propelling yourself to being the forum’s top poster.

(B) Pick a fight with just the one real idiot so all the other idiots will see how wise you are and start to worship your wisdom.

(C) Post one enormous reply, citing every mistake made by everyone else… and not forgetting to put the word “Long” in the subject heading.