Diary of an up and coming sociopath

Like many, I was delighted to discover that Stephen Fry has a blog! One of the few living men who can challenge Alan Moore’s status as the most British man alive, and we can finally get to see inside his head! What do we discover…?

He’s a REALLY GIANT NERD! I mean, HUGE! 10,000 words on mobile phones so complicated even I, who am no stranger to technology fetishism, got bored and started skim-reading. Stephen Fry finally descends from intellectual godhood to slum it in the blog o’sphere with the rest of us, and what do we get? News that Sony’s Smartphones are not quite as good as they should be! Imagine if Moses descended the Mount and delivered, instead of the 10 commandments, a list of his least favourite cheeses with detailed descriptions of why they’re rubbish. This is the kind of feeling I am having right now. It could’ve been so much more!

On the other hand, some good could come of it - so respected are his opinions, Fry may well be the death of the iPhone! Imagine if Oscar Wilde had, back in the day, a blog where he could write “well, there’s some debate on the issue but for my money Pepsi tastes like dog piss, it’s got to be Coke for me.” The final nail in the caffeine (OH GOD, THE PUN HURTS) for Pepsi, that’s what!

Unfortunately, so popular has Fry’s blog proven, that it appears to have crashed his servers. There’s a syndicated version on livejournal, though, if you want to give it a go.

Of course, you understand the majority of this post was written in jest. I would read basically anything Stephen Fry wrote. Even if he is the most giant nerd who has ever walked this planet. He’s allowed to be. He’s Stephen Fucking Fry, don’t you know?

Guess who’s now 25!

That’d be me. Is it time for an anniversary issue? (That’s just a little comics humour, there.)

Now, anyone who’s been 25 before will just have to humour my naivety when I say that this is the first time I’ve looked at my age and had reason to think “DAMN, I’m actually AGING.” Why do I still feel like I’m, say, 19? I remember when people who were 25 actually seemed *cool* - now I’m sitting at Reading festival going “Dear god, is that girl really only 16? I’m going to hell!” I’m not cool! Perhaps 25-year-olds were never cool! It’s all a huge conspiracy, or more likely, the whole thing’s a massive cock up. Cool? The only things getting cooler are my extremities as I lose all blood flow to them in my old age. I swear I can’t feel my toes. I’m sure I could when I was 24.

I understand that it’s not like there’s any urgency to being in your mid-20s (no more than usual…) and there’s most likely plenty of time left before the sweet release of death and all, and admittedly, it doesn’t feel any different to when I was 24-and-364-days, but I’m finding it worryingly inescapable that it’ll go 26, 27, 28, 29 and then I’m out of my 20s. There’s only four 20-numbers left until 30! I’m currently on my sixth one! Argh! Etc.

In line with this new age-related hysteria which I’ve never experienced before, I’m going to spend the rest of the year hiding under a pile of blankets until I’m 26, at which point I assume the problem will automatically resolve itself.