Somebody's watching me....

...I know I'm nervous and I shouldn't be:
Somebody's got their eye on me,
Perhaps we should invite them up for tea.
(Thompson Twins: We Are Detective)

In this case, it's the engine that targets adverts to match recent keywords on the computer. Following today's post on the shortcomings of Virgin Trains, I am being bombarded with offers of railcards or - optimistically, given my finances - the Orient Express, while a post on Forest Lawn cemetery produced an invitation to 'memorialize a Loved One's ashes' in a glass paperweight.

And it doesn't stop there; post on holidays and up pop cruises and villas, post on cars and you'll be invited to test drive half a dozen possibilities. Not as nerve-wracking as the assorted government agencies who drop in when you've mentioned, say, Dubai - Hi guys! Yes, it's me again! - or arms deals, but there's something depressing about tailored marketing.

And I'm starting to wonder whether the same thing applies to television advertising. After all, we're already familiar with the concept of ads targeted for viewer profiles - hair products during 'Skins', Lynx during football matches or Steradent during 'Countdown'.

And, according to the Urchin, those hyperactive music channels with presenters who go 'Yeah!' a lot regularly treat their viewers to ego-crushing advert breaks crammed with commercials for deodorant, spot cream and online dating.

As I write, the Artful Dodger is watching 'The Day of the Jackal' and, every twenty minutes or so, has been invited by a variety of rival concerns to open a new bank account, buy a fast car or travel abroad - enough to wonder whether the same inquisitive software is following the plot.

As the Dodger points out, should he decide to adopt the profession of hit-man after graduation (after all, there will be precious few job opportunities out there) he is now amply supplied with ideas for getaway vehicles and where to stash his ill-gotten gains.

We don't need no thought control

I consider myself to be an individual and I'm sure you do too. In fact, if you are reading this, there is a high probability that you are a blogger too, and thus something of an independent spirit.

If so, then, like me, you will doubtless be worried by the findings emerging from Nijmegen, where scientists have been trying to identify the part of the brain that determines the conformity of its owner's behaviour and, having tracked down this elusive region - it's in your posterior medial frontal cortex, in case you were wondering - looking for ways to influence it.

It turns out that a burst of Transcranial Electromagnetic Stimulation (TMS) inhibiting the activity of neurons in this area made their subjects less likely to alter their decisions in response to group pressure.

'Dr Klucharev believes this part of the brain is responsible for generating an "error" signal when individuals deviate from the group opinion, triggering a cascade that leads them to conform with the group view; "Individuals differ in the strength of the error signal – which is why some people are more conformist than others".'

Klucharev envisages techniques that can increase immunity to the negative aspects of peer presssure - criminal behaviour, for example or aggressive marketing - but it's a worryingly short step from there to the idea of manipulating neuron activity in the opposite direction to increase conformity.

Far-fetched? The stuff of science fiction? I sincerely hope so, because the thought of such techniques in the wrong hands is a frightening prospect indeed.

While on the subject, I have been wondering whether bloggers - or at least those who offer comment on social and political phenomena - are, in fact, a self-selected group whose 'error signals' are so weak as to be imperceptible. After all, the ability to place yourself outside events and offer an independent view suggests a strong maverick streak.

Or are we all actually closet conformists seeking the approval of an online community of similar thinkers?

What do you think?

One ring to rule them...

An illustration of priorities, perhaps; despite a few local difficulties in places like Libya and Ivory Coast, the British press continues to enlighten us on vital subjects such as royal wedding rings.

In much the same way as his grandmother was castigated for her failure to emote on camera, the prince is facing criticism from all sides for his choice not to join generation Ratner and wear a wedding ring.

Now I have nothing against men wearing rings if they wish to, or if they belong to a tradition that includes male wedding rings, but it seems somewhat harsh that the poor boy is expected to pop down to the high street simply because a jewellery chain once saw an opening* and started a craze.

Even Mumsnet - that social barometer of our time - has entered the fray:

'...in cases of ring refusal, an underhand motive is often inferred, as shown in a discussion on parenting website Mumsnet that came in the wake of the Prince William announcement.

"It's so he can pick up girls in bars anonymously, no?" joked one contributor. "Perhaps he doesn't want anyone to know he's married cos it'll cramp his style," suggested another.'

Interestingly, the BBC article attracts several comments from men who reluctantly agreed to wear wedding rings at their wives' insistence - and this utterly pompous interpretation: 'Choosing not to wear a ring while expecting your partner to have one is a sign to me that William has less regard for Kate than she has for him. Not a good start to the marriage IMO'.

It all goes to show - if further proof were needed - that commercial pressures have turned the 'ghastly public confession of a strictly private intention' into a circus where all must comply with the conventions or risk the ire of the masses. Still, one commentor, at least, is making the best of the situation:

'My father does not wear a ring and I never planned on it either, when it came to it though my wife said she would like me to. I wasn't a jewellery person, but I did to make her happy. Now it feels weird if I am without it.

Plus it's handy for doing Frodo impressions.'


*The double-ring ceremony, or use of wedding rings for both partners, is a relatively recent innovation. The American jewellery industry started a marketing campaign aimed at encouraging this practice in the late 19th century.[Wikipedia]

Keep on passing the open windows...

It had to happen. Marketing has progressed so far beyond irony that there is no longer a word for it. An air freshener manufacturer is selling 'green fresh fragrances inspired by open windows.'

So you can now sit in your hermetically sealed, double glazed home (in accordance with new building regs), and rely on an electrically operated gadget to pump out regular doses of chemically generated 'open windows, newly mown grass and morning breeze.'

Sounds lovely, doesn't it?

'WARNING: IRRITANT 
Contains citronellol and bourgeonal. May cause sensitization by skin contact. Harmful to aquatic organisms, may cause long-term adverse effects in the aquatic environment. Avoid contact with skin. If swallowed, seek medical advice immediately and show this container or label. Wear suitable gloves. Spillage of the liquid might cause damage to surfaces. People suffering from perfume sensitivity should be cautious when using this product. Air fresheners do not replace good hygiene practices.'

Neither do they replace chemical-free air - unfortunately something of a rare commodity these days. From the florist Demetrius observed spraying perfume on her wares to the youngsters strutting about town in a suffocating miasma of spray-on 'fragrance', the chemical-mongers are everywhere among us.

And so is childhood asthma, affecting an estimated 1.1 million children in the UK. Concerned parents may well check NHS Choices, to be told that common triggers for attacks in susceptible children 'include house dust mites, animal fur, pollen, tobacco smoke, cold air and chest infections.'

So you take your fags outside, wrap up warm and don't let the cat sit on the baby. No mention of three different combinations of chemicals electrically pumped into the air every 45 minutes, in rotation 'so you always notice them'. Perhaps they mention it further on:

'Environmental factors that may trigger asthma include exposure to air pollutants, such as cigarette smoke, and certain substances that can cause allergic reactions (allergens) such as pollen and animal fur.'

That would be a 'no' then. And even when other suspects are brought in later - fungi, aspirin and sulphites - the nearest it gets is 'chemical fumes', which hardly suggests that parents might want to open a window instead of resorting to air freshener - a misnomer so blatant it almost passes unnoticed.

Another slice of squirrel, Julia?

A few weeks ago I posted on the menace of forty-pound American Lobsters invading British waters and, with selfless patriotism, the valiant JuliaM offered to deal with the interlopers by eating them.

I suggested at the time she might like to apply the same tactics to the ubiquitous grey squirrel, and it looks like other people have been having the same idea. A branch of Budgens has set the cat amongst the pigeons, so to speak, by offering squirrel meat for sale.

This has not pleased the fluffy brigade, who have described the supermarket as profiting from a ‘wildlife massacre’. According to zoologist and veggie lobbyist Juliet Gellatley:

'If this store is attempting to stand out from the crowd by selling squirrel, the only message they are giving out is that they are happy to have the blood of a beautiful wild animal on their hands for the sake of a few quid.'

Er, right.

I suppose beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but, carnivore or vegetarian, it seems a little odd to classify the relative morality of meat by the animal’s looks. Presumably venison’s right out, then –"You shot Bambi’s mother!”

Jenny Seagrove goes one better: 'It is unbelievable that our wild grey squirrels are now being killed and packaged up for sale in such high street stores.’

I’m not entirely sure why she has trouble grasping the concept. There may be no long-standing tradition of grey squirrel consumption in Britain, but that’s largely because we didn’t have them until the end of the 19th century.

Had they been here since Norman times, like the humble rabbit, perhaps Ms Seagrove would be rather less starry-eyed about the little pests, instead of railing against the injustice of it all:

'Anyone who cares about wildlife, as I do, should be appalled at Budgens for allowing this. It seems that no animal is to be spared falling victim to such companies' marketing ploys. What gruesome product will be next to grace our food aisles? Blackbird, fieldmouse or mole?'

I can’t wait to find out!

Go, Nutkin!

There's a new thrill-seeker hanging about at Alton Towers, it seems. A daredevil squirrel has been riding a newly refurbished roller-coaster to the consternation of the management. The intrepid rodent, first attracted by the packed lunches brought by workmen, has taken to riding in the cars on morning test runs and joining the volunteers trying out the ride.

Mindful of the risks involved, the management have installed the sort of high-pitched noise generator used to deter alcopop-wielding teenagers from hanging around shopping centres at night. A sonic device, in other words so the squirrel has inevitably been nicknamed 'Sonic'.

And there's something slightly disappointing when you find out that the ride is, coincidentally, the 'Sonic Spinball' and the source of the information is Alton Towers' director of sales and marketing. And the newly-refurbished ride opened to the public on Sunday.

So there you are; the sum total of the evidence for the regular rides is a single picture of a squirrel in a stationary roller-coaster car and a story from a marketing director. Is it true? You decide.

Patron Saint of Painted Babies

A guest post by Polly Peachum

This brief return to the Tavern is prompted by a recent foray within the unfamilar portals of the Mail, where following a link led us to stumble across a monstrosity. Prize for the most repulsively unsettling image of the week goes to the picture of Jordan's two-year-old daughter tricked out in foundation, lipstick and false eyelashes.

We have not reproduced or linked to it here for fear of upsetting readers of a sensitive disposition (or attracting dodgy googlers), but her mother has happily placed it on her Facebook page, presumably for the world to see. And for anyone who missed that, the Mail has helpfully obliged by reproducing it in gruesome technicolor.

The article was followed by a piece showing Tom Cruise's daughter - she of the high heels and designer wardrobe - shopping for bright red lipstick, encouraged by her mother. Suri Cruise, it appears, is all of three years old. It's as bad as those women who dress their chihuahuas in diamante, or the Roman aristocrat Hortensius putting earrings on his pet fish.

It is in the light of images like these that the ban on Valentine cards at a primary school makes perfect sense. It may once have been a harmless tradition but parental interference and media hype renders even the simple giving - or not giving - of a token of affection a potential emotional minefield, quite apart from the distraction it causes in the classroom.

For generations of the past, the feast of St Valentine - once a whimsical Victorian conceit - was an innocent affair but, thanks largely to the media, it has grown sophisticated and cynical, embracing marketing opportunities and acquiring a veneer of carnality entirely inappropriate for children of primary age.

Unless, that is, you are the sort of mother who delights in putting make-up and high heels on your infant daughter, in which case it provides you with an opportunity to exerience a vicarious thrill at exciting - and inciting - the admiration of the opposite sex, and to pass your warped priorities on to your children.

Small wonder then , that a significant number of under 14's express a desire to grow up to be Wags, glamour models or pole dancers. If the action of one brave head teacher (it's a risky business, upsetting parents these days) can go some way to lifting the horizons of his pupils beyond these dismal depths, it will not have been in vain.

Update - Some interestingly varied opinions on this story at Ambush Predator and Mark Wadsworth and a wonderful take on it by Giles Coren in the Times.