Category: Rants

#oneaday Day 140: 21st Century Boy

It's the 21st century. If you grew up in the 20th century like I did, this means that you're officially In The Future, because saying "21st century" sounded like it was a very long way off and not, as it happened, just around the corner.

Since we're officially In The Future, I think there's more than a few pieces of technology that we should probably have mastered by now. And I'm not going to say "hoverboards" because "hoverboards" would be rubbish. I can barely stay upright on a skateboard, and certainly not on rollerskates, so why the fuck would I want to remove the wheels and stand on a sheet of plastic floating in mid-air? No. Fuck hoverboards, and sort this lot out instead:

Pay-and-display machines that don't give change or accept card payments

Seriously. We're living in a digital society where you can pay for things by swiping your phone in front of terminals and yet when you park your car you still need exact change to purchase a ticket? Balls. Fix it.

Computers that don't tell you what the problem is

"An unexpected error has occurred." As opposed to an expected error? WHAT WENT WRONG? And no, I don't want to know the hexadecimal address of the piece of memory where something went wrong because I didn't write the program. I want something in plain English. "Your graphics card is buggered," for example, or "Your hard drive is too full for this program to work effectively."

Microwaves that have a power rating somewhere in between the ratings listed on a packet of food

The microwave here is 800W. Food packaging lists cooking times for 650W, 750W and 850W. Is it too much to ask for microwave manufacturers and those who package food to co-operate a little bit?

Clocks that don't auto-adjust to British Summer Time/Daylight Saving Time/Uzbekistan Testicle Appreciation Time

Changing the clocks is an annoying rigmarole anyway, and when some of the devices in your house do it automatically and others don't, it's a pain in the arse to figure out which is which.

Tiny things that you can't find

Everything should have a phone number or GPS tracking, meaning if you lose your keys, you should be able to phone them and locate them.

Companies who will let you sign up online but require you to phone them to cancel

I'm looking at you, LoveFilm. You were deliciously easy to sign up for, yet cancelling required me to speak to some indecipherable person on a bad line and explain to them that no, I had phoned to cancel so no, I don't want to extend my service or give them my payment information. Let me cancel online. I don't want to speak to other human beings on the phone. I hate the phone.

Companies who insist that all correspondence must be done through the mail

And I'm talking about the paper mail that comes through your letterbox. In this digital world, there's no real excuse for this any more. And while we're on…

Companies who take a week to respond to an email

"We will get back to you within 7 days." Probably with the wrong answer. It takes a few seconds to Google the question I had or to ask the person sitting behind you, to type in your response and to hit Send. Even if you have other people to deal with in the queue in front of me, I doubt it takes a week.

Erm. This may have become a bit more ranty than I intended. Oh well. We're living in the future. These things should be sorted by now. So fix them, world!

#oneaday Day 116: Hacked Off

So, Sony fucked up. Pretty bigstyle. And yet I find myself less angry at them and their incompetent handling of the situation and more angry at the fact this situation even arose in the first place.

I'm talking, of course, about hackers. Hacking, despite people not really knowing what it is outside of representations that they've seen in movies, is one of the things people are most paranoid about in the online age — and with Sony's PR disaster in full swing at the minute, it's easy to see why, as people frantically cancel their credit cards and change all their passwords on the offchance that some bearded, smelly loser (not me) may pick their personal details to commit fraud with.

In practice, it seems that a lot of hacks are committed to make a point rather than cause damage as such, whatever Introversion Software's excellent Uplink might have you believe. But for a service as inoffensive as PSN, it just seems spiteful to attack it. Anonymous had its high-profile throwing-toys-out-of-a-pram moment a week or two ago but they claim they're not responsible for this latest incident as they're supposedly "on the side of the consumer". That and everyone was yelling at them for fucking up PSN when people just wanted to get online, play stuff and buy stuff.

I guess it's just like any other crime — crime shouldn't happen, but it does, whether it's in the real or virtual world. However nice it'd be to imagine a Star Trek-esque future where crime and war between humans is a thing of the past, it's not going to happen — or at least, not for a long time. As long as there are people out there who feel a misplaced sense of "entitlement" — whether it's to get their hands on software they haven't paid for, to steal people's personal information or just to fuck everyone else's enjoyment up — then we can never feel completely "safe" and confident.

Which is a shame, really, isn't it? So much of new technology is genuinely awesome when used properly. Were the threat of hacking and other technology crime not present, the capabilities of devices could be even more awesome. But as it is, so much time and money has to be spent on installing cutting-edge security into every single device we own that things are probably held back from where they could be if security wasn't such an issue.

Oh, I know. It's nice to want things, and some sort of Utopia would supposedly get boring quite quickly, but I'd certainly like to enjoy it, if only for a while. But it's never going to happen — the world is full of just enough arseholes to make life less enjoyable for the majority, non-arsehole population out there.

So, arseholes, a big fuck you, and I hope your cock falls off. Into a fire. Which someone then douses with acid, mistaking it for water. And then feeds you the remains. And then jams a really sharp spike right up your bum-hole.

Yeah.

#oneaday Day 75: Yar-Har Fiddle-De-Dee

Piracy is a crime. Most people are aware of this by now, but it still goes on. And as much as I'm not a fan of piracy per se, it's becoming increasingly understandable why people resort to less-than-legal means to get hold of digital content. Sometimes it's because said content isn't available where they live without paying exorbitant amounts of money to import things. Sometimes it's to get a different version of some content they enjoy. And sometimes it's because the legal versions of the content don't work in the first place.

Let's take YouTube as an example here. YouTube launched a service in the UK last year called YouTube Shows, which carries content from Channel 4, Channel 5 and various other sources, allowing viewers to catch up on programmes they've missed, rather like iPlayer. This is a great service, particularly considering it's available for free, thanks to the fact it's supported by advertising.

At least, it's great in theory. Until the advertising service breaks, rendering the content completely inaccessible. Because there's no failsafe to skip a broken ad, no means of reloading with different ads if they cause the video to fail and no means to report broken content, if YouTube decides that you're not going to watch something, you're not going to watch it.

This is obviously a Bad Thing, but of course it's not YouTube's fault directly. Computers fuck up, that's part of What They Do. But when the fact that Computers Fuck Up That's What They Do means that a service becomes unusable, that's when alternative means start to get 1) sought and 2) provided.

Take the various means of digital rights management that many PC games come bundled with these days, too. Several of Ubisoft's games won't run at all if you're not connected to the Internet constantly while you're playing, so if you have a dodgy wireless signal in your home, good luck playing Assassin's Creed on the PC, since it'll kick you from the game every time your connection drops. And now some console games are starting to take the same approach, too, with Bionic Commando Rearmed 2 on PSN being one of the first. Modern consoles are very much geared towards "always-on" connections these days, of course, but with the number of times my PS3 logs itself out of PSN with no warning every day, playing a game that depended on Internet connectivity would quickly become very frustrating.

It ends up as a vicious cycle, however. The pirates determine more and more inventive ways to circumvent the more and more inventive protective systems that publishers put in place to deter the pirates from circumventing their protective systems. And it never ends. At the moment, particularly when it comes to PC gaming, cracked versions often offer a more convenient, "better" experience than legitimate copies. And when it comes to DVDs, not having to sit through several minutes of unskippable bullshit every time you want to watch a 20-minute episode of How I Met Your Mother is always going to be a mark in favour of downloading the episodes rather than buying the DVDs.

Piracy is a crime. But buying a product isn't, and nor is tolerating advertising to make use of a free service. So how about the legitimate consumers stop getting treated like dirt, huh?

#oneaday Day 70: Waste Not

[The comics for the next few days are a little disjointed as I'm going away for the weekend. Fans of Rogue, if there are any, will be pleased to see he has his own utterly pointless mini-series.]

I'm sitting in my "study" (for want of a better word—it's the room I have with my desk and computer in) and despite staring at the screen enjoying the wonders of the electronic, digital age (such as this delightful blog) I am literally surrounded by pieces of paper. I don't dare throw any of these pieces of paper away because one day, one of them might be important for something I can't possibly predict. I have discovered this to my cost a number of times in the past.

This is annoying, though. I have one of those expandy box file things that has burst its seams because of the amount of shitty useless paperwork crammed inside it. Some of this paperwork is from houses I haven't lived in for five years. Some is from, I don't know, last week? All of it is completely useless, until you really need it, when it becomes the most important thing in the world and consequently is nowhere to be found even though you know you put it in that section of the file and can remember looking at it and thinking "I know this will be important some day".

Conversely, I know that if I have all these shitty annoying stupid bits of paper everywhere and close to hand that I will never ever need them ever again. And then I will throw them out to tidy up. And then I'll suddenly need them again.

Why? Why do we surround ourselves with such crap? The world is full of so many wonders and yet it seems that in order to just survive and go about our daily business we have to sign this, keep this safe, keep this secret, remember this handy 300-digit number that also includes letters just to be awkward, keep every single piece of paper that includes numbers and currency symbols just in case you need to show people that you understand what money is or something, and read 15-page long letters that make no sense but basically amount to saying "if you break something or have it nicked, you can have some money but only if we feel like it and by GOD we will investigate thoroughly for the best part of fifteen years before we even think of paying out".

And relax.

I should probably add at this point that I've never had to claim through an insurance company so haven't encountered the above situation before, but I did do some temping for a firm of "loss adjusters"—a profession I didn't know existed before I did that job briefly—and was alarmed to discover some claims had indeed been going on for a healthy number of years. I was also shocked to see quite how many pointless companies exist in the world. In one instance, an insurance company contacted the loss adjusters who contacted some surveyors (odd, since the loss adjusters had their own in-house surveyors, but never mind) who contacted some builders who contacted some architects who contacted some draftsmen… and then they all contacted each other back in the other direction again. This isn't an exaggeration for comic effect, there legitimately were that many people involved. No wonder we're drowning in fucking paperwork.

Please consider the environment before you print this blog post. And please consider the environment before you post me a metric shit-ton of paper I will never read.

#oneaday Day 63: Mr Sheen

So. Charlie Sheen, eh? What a card. Winning. Tiger blood. I wish there were some way to show my appreciation for him through the medium of the Internet, such as saying "winning" every few minutes. Oh wait.

Sarcasm aside, I find this whole farrago (yes, farrago, deal with it) surrounding Mr Sheen somewhat bewildering. As someone pointed out on Twitter yesterday, Pete Doherty does a bunch of drugs, acts like a dickhead and is vilified, while Sheen does a bunch of drugs, acts like a dickhead and is elevated to Internet meme deity status? It makes no sense whatsoever.

Sheen himself isn't helping, with his Twitter account attracting over a million followers in the course of 25 hours, a new Guinness World Record. (I wasn't even aware there were Guinness World Records for how quickly people got Twitter followers, but I guess you live and learn.) His bewildering gibberish seems to have the majority of the Internet frothing at the mouth in giddy euphoria, wondering what on earth he's going to say or do next. Sheen acquired well over half a million followers before he'd posted anything at all on Twitter, with rubberneckers urging each other to "hold on to your hats" and the like.

I've never been one for celebrity culture and gossip, or gossip in general for that matter. As far as I'm concerned, what people do in their personal life should remain personal, whether they're the man on the street or someone in the public eye. Sure, public figures arguably have a responsibility to set a good example to impressionable people—but if they do this when they're out in public, is there any need to go prying into their private life?

Of course, one could argue that Sheen was rather public in his dickheadishness, in which case at that stage the press should step in and see what's up. But if that's the case, why is he being put up on such a pedestal? Is being a drug-addled twat really something to aspire to? If so, that's kind of sad. Or is it that he's a broken man acting more and more erratically as he makes more and more of a mess of his life, and everyone's laughing at him? Because that's kind of sad, too.

Not only that, but the LA Times revealed yesterday that Sheen had signed up with celebrity ad-whoring agency ad.ly, who pay Sheen and a number of other corporate shill "celebrities" including the Kardashians (whom I'm still not sure why are famous), Mike Tyson, Linkin Park and 50 Cent, to advertise products in their Twitter stream. A clever, if arguably obnoxious, idea. Fortunately, none of them are the kind of people I have the slightest interest in following, so I've remained relatively free of their selling-out-ness. But the fact remains that ad.ly are clearly taking advantage of Sheen's questionable mental state (and people's fascination with it) to make a quick buck.

Still. The usual response to disapproving of a situation like this is to advise one to "just ignore it". So, barring anyone coming up and shouting "WINNING!" in my face (who will get a punch in their face) that is what I intend to do from now. Having just written 541 words on the subject.

Now who's winning?

#oneaday Day 62: Too Long, Still Read

I'm almost entirely certain I have ranted on this topic at least once in the past. But, well, it bears repeating, given what I do both here and professionally.

More than one paragraph isn't bad.

More than 140 characters isn't bad. (Unless you're using Twitter, when all the deck.ly and TwitLonger nonsense kind of defeats the object.)

I read an answer to a question on GameFAQs earlier. The original poster had asked something which required quite a detailed answer. One respondee gave a detailed, good answer that was two paragraphs long, probably about 150-200 words or so. He apologised for writing "alot of text" (sic)—and I'll let the "alot" slide for the minute because there are bigger issues at work here, dammit. (Incidentally, if you've never seen this, well, you should.)

No. Stop apologising when you write things. Stop complaining at people in forums if they write detailed thoughts. Stop providing lazy people with "TL;DR" summaries and make them read. No wonder people haven't got the patience for books any more if they can't bear to read more than 10 words of someone else's opinion at a time and inevitably respond with something utterly inane like "lol". (And I bet they're not even really laughing out loud either, the bastards.)

Language is an incredibly powerful thing. Look at all the things it's built over the years. Those things didn't come about by people worrying about writing an "OMFG WALL OF TEXT" and people ignoring them. Those people had something to say and damn well said it, in detail, and argued their case. Their passion for what they were talking about came through in the power of the words that they chose, their enthusiasm for the topic came across with the depth into which they explored their topics verbally and on paper.

Now granted, there are times when brevity is better than verbosity. Anything from any government agency or law office, for example. I received a letter from the tax office a while back which went on for 3 pages when the single word "no" would have sufficed. These people have nothing to say and ironically spend pages and pages proving how little they have to say. Why? Who knows. To sound "official", perhaps.

But people with opinions? People debating things? People being—who'd have thought it—helpful? There's no sin in using a few more words if it might make someone think, discuss or smile.

So stop apologising when you write something, be it a blog post, forum post, Yahoo! Answers answer (well, someone has to write them) or blog comment. If you have something to say, it is absolutely your right to be able to say it without worrying about whether its length is going to put people off (*deftly sidesteps "that's what she said" gag*). And those who are too lazy to read a couple of paragraphs of comment? Well, they're probably not the sort of person you'd want to engage in a debate anyway. So F them in the B.

TL;DR: Stop being a dick.

#oneaday Day 56: Trendsetter

Trends are bizarre, inexplicable and ultimately meaningless if you have a mind of your own. I find it impossibly difficult to fathom sometimes how one minute something can be excellent, popular, wonderful, critically acclaimed and all manner of superlatives, then the next it is shit, awful, bollocks, crap and proof that you are a complete fuckwit if you dare to admit you like it in the company of anyone with a face.

There are few places where this is more apparent than in the world of "celebrities"—and my God how much I hate that word, but that's an entirely different story. I have one specific example in mind and that is the comedian Michael McIntyre. He appeared on the scene a year or two pack, mostly on panel shows such as Mock the Week, and he proved himself to be an entertaining, clever, well-spoken funnyman with floppy, silly hair that I could relate to. We started seeing some of his stand-up on TV, and I thought his material was very funny and a little different from other acts around at the time. At some indeterminate point in about the last year or so, it became fashionable to hate him and slag him off.

To be perfectly honest, I wonder exactly how many people who use Michael McIntyre as a whipping boy for what is supposedly the lowest of the low comedy have actually watched his whole act, and how many of them are simply following the trend. Who decided it was time to hate McIntyre? Why? Where did that "trend" originally come from? It must have started with someone and spread virally. Public opinions don't do complete U-turns without some sort of influence—and McIntyre himself is the same as he's always been.

It happens in all media too; Square's Final Fantasy series, once beloved by most gamers (or at least the ones who liked JRPGs) is now belittled and complained about by almost everyone. The games aren't any worse (I'm playing FFXIII right now and while it could be argued to be a step backwards from the complete change of direction that was FFXII, it's certainly not a bad, boring, stupid, dumb game like some people have ranted at great length about) and sure, Square could probably stand to re-release the first four games in the series a few less times and the others a few more times… but Square hate is also in fashion right now.

I'm not objecting to anyone having opinions, you understand. People are free to like or dislike whatever the hell they want, whether it's music, games, movies, books, celebrities, foods or even abstract concepts. The idea of people belittling each other based on what they enjoy, though? That's just stupid. I hate The X-Factor and related TV shows, for example, and have even moaned about them a great deal in the past. But I figured out that there was absolutely no point in doing so, because even if it is the shittest of the shit (and it is) there are people out there who enjoy it and aren't going to listen however much you try and convince them otherwise.

So here's a thought, then. Why don't we start a new trend—a trend of saying "I like this, give it a try, it's cool if you don't"? Okay, sure, as slogans go it's not the catchiest one out there. But it's better than "I hate this and you should too even if you have no idea what I'm talking about!"

#oneaday Day 55: DLC is only two letters from "DICK"

Nostalgia and rose-tinted spectacles are rife in all walks of life, but there are few places where it happens more so than in the video games industry. This is perhaps due to the fact that it's such a fast-moving industry that you can be in your twenties and still feel nostalgic for "the good old days" and how much better they supposedly were.

Nine times out of ten, of course, nostalgia is proven wrong when you actually go back and play the things you were so nostalgic about. Things move on for a reason.

But I'm firmly of the opinion that the previous console generation is always going to be looked back on as a "golden age" that is going to be very difficult to top, however good the games might be, and however beautiful the HD graphics of today's games might be.

The reason for this, to me, that games from then were finished. Now we have the blight that is DLC. Now, the arguments in favour of downloadable add-ons for games are many—extra content adds life to a game and keeps it relevant long after release. It gives developers the opportunity to show that they're still "supporting" a product. And it allows for other, smaller developers to use an existing base as the means for some creative risk-taking—see Bioshock 2's "Minerva's Den" as an example.

But at its worst, DLC is a cynical money-making exercise designed to get people to pay for their games twice—once to buy the thing in the first place and once again to purchase all the "premium content" that should have been included with the game. Premium content, let's not forget, that very often is actually on the game disc and is simply "unlocked" by purchasing an access code.

This isn't the only negative side to DLC, either. Narrative games suffer considerably from this whole "oh, let's add a bit here, add a bit there" structure. There was a time when you would start playing a game, go through its story, beat it and be satisfied. Now, it seems, there always has to be "a little bit more". There always has to be an "exclusive epilogue chapter", or some "side missions" or "the shock return of a beloved character!"

Rather than seeing this as a good opportunity to get more of the games I love, I see this as reason to not pick up a copy of a hotly-anticipated game on its original release, because it's almost inevitable that there will be some "extra bits" sold separately down the road, and that these will be bundled into a "Game of the Year Edition" or similar even further down the road.

This is what was supposed to happen with the PS3 version of Mass Effect 2. I was quite keen to wait for this rather than picking up any of the DLC for the Xbox version, so that I could play the "definitive version". Sure enough, the PS3 version was announced as having "all" the DLC included with it. Nice. Except now they've announced some more, because Mass Effect 2 is big business and people will keep funnelling money into it.

ARGH. What this means in practice is that when you buy a game these days you're essentially purchasing an unfinished product. With the speed at which some of this DLC magically appears, it's clear it's been worked on alongside the "main" game and so it would have been very easy for it to simply be included in the price of admission. And with some publishers like EA already withholding content from those who have purchased a game pre-owned, the whole situation just strikes me as more than a little objectionable. Games are too expensive anyway, and to start charging even more for them is just… well, wrong.

Unfortunately, there are too many people out there invested in the DLC debacle to mean we can ever go back. Are you happy with that?

#oneaday, Day 45: Melancholy

I realise in posting this I am directly contravening the excellent points made by the lovely Laura on her blog yesterday. But, well, you know how it is sometimes.

I'm not bemoaning the fact I'm single on Valentine's Day. This is nothing unusual—I spent the vast majority of my formative V-days single, so much so that it's easy to ignore that particular fact right now, were it not for the fact that this day (and the ones immediately following it) hold rather more personal significance for me than just reminding me that last year I wasn't single.

No, this particular part of the year was when we "met" online. Again, probably nothing unusual for many couples these days. But the context in which we met means that there are permanent digital and physical records of how our meeting came about. And by that I mean there are newspaper articles. Newspaper articles. Granted, they were articles from a specialist professional (teaching, not prostitution) newspaper with a relatively limited UK-based circulation, but still newspaper articles, regardless, and ones which I still have tucked away somewhere. They're not things I want to throw away. They're part of my history, the story that led me to this (depressing) point I'm at now.

It's curious how these things go in cycles. Nothingness begat words on a page that became a real person whom I loved… and back again, for specific reasons on both our parts that have ceased to matter right now. Only it's not back again; it's not back to how things were before it ever happened. The details of exactly how it "is"? Well, that's for me to know; while the lead-up to all this may have led me to where I am now, it's not the only thing that bothers me, and arguably not even the most important thing on my mind at this time. I'm not even sure I know what the most important thing is to me right now.

It's a strange situation to be in. Some days I feel I have it all figured out and can move on—or at least try to, what with all the many obstacles life keeps throwing in my way; others I either can't or don't want to deal with it; others still I'm incapable of coping with anything and just want to hide. I don't have an answer, and I suspect there isn't one—short of letting things happen as and when the Fates decide it's "time", that is. Because all the effort I put in to making things right for myself (because I think I have earned the right to be completely selfish and I will fight anyone who says otherwise with sticks and hammers) keeps getting thrown in my face and contributing to The Pile, which hasn't got any smaller since Day 170 of last year.

This isn't whining self-pity—well, it is, but it's not, so shush—it's frustration at the fact that I'm trapped and stifled in a situation I don't want to be in with what feels like very little control over how I can get out of it. My fate is in the hands of people I don't know who seemingly want nothing to do with me despite my best efforts to make myself look awesome in a variety of different ways. I am grateful to the few people who have taken my awesomeness on faith and given me the opportunity to prove myself over the past year. It's a start. But it remains to be seen if that's the "right" route, as at the minute, it's not enough to survive with.

And this all leads to a vicious cycle. Each fresh new rejection makes it more and more difficult to summon up the energy to keep fighting. Because it is a battle, it is a struggle, and one which some days I wonder if it's possible to win.

The only thing I am grateful for out of this whole mess is the many new friends I've had the opportunity to make that I may never have come into contact with otherwise. I am grateful for their help and support and I wouldn't want to be without them.

Life and love send you up many streets, blind alleys and shit creeks without a map. I still don't know where I'll end up, or how. And the next person who says "well, life would be boring otherwise" in response will get a serious Number 10-Grade punch in the face. I want a boring life. I want to be able to get up in the morning, go to work, earn enough money to survive by myself and buy the occasional nice thing. I want to be with someone who is right for me, who understands and appreciates me, my talents and my life. And I want to be able to go to bed at night and just sleep rather than lying awake staring at the ceiling in the darkness boiling with anxieties.

I'll leave you with this.

#oneaday, Day 43: Got any ID?

Little Johnny wants to buy a copy of acclaimed and excessively popular (some might say cultish) Lovecraftian multiplayer FPS Call of Cthuty: Black Arts and heads down to his local GAME. There, he attempts to procure a copy of said game—which has a big shiny red BBFC "18" certificate on it—with the pocket money he's saved up. Little Johnny is eleven years old and doesn't have any ID, fake or otherwise. The cashier at GAME refuses to serve him. Little Johnny goes home and cries, and Xbox LIVE is safe from another squeaky-voiced pipsqueak for another day.

Well done, GAME, correct response.

Little Johnny returns to GAME with his mother, who doesn't know much about video games. He has convinced her that he "needs" this game in order to fit in with all the cool kids, who are all playing it for 37 hours a day, some of whom have already Ascended and are going around the levelling system again, only this time with brand new Elder Powers to choose from. His mother picks up the game, barely gives it a second glance, asks the cashier for it with Little Johnny standing right there, and the cashier doesn't question this at all. Little Johnny's mother hands him his shiny new game, he shouts "FUCK YEAH!" and runs out of the shop giggling.

No, GAME. Bad GAME. Incorrect response.

Bigger Johnny (no relation) wants to buy a copy of acclaimed and excessively popular (some might say cultish) Lovecraftian multiplayer FPS Call of Cthuty: Black Arts and heads down to his local GAME. There, he attempts to procure a copy of said game—which has a big shiny red BBFC 18 certificate on it—with his credit card. He is 19, after all. He gives the "If you're lucky enough to look under 21…" sign on the counter a brief glance but decides that the bum-fluff he's managed to grow on his chin will ensure he won't have to worry about ID—which is good, because he's forgotten to bring it. He is incorrect in his assumption, as the cashier asks him for ID and he is unable to provide it. He leaves the shop empty-handed, but with his bank account forty quid better off than it would have been.

Well done, GAME, correct response.

Bigger Johnny's mum just happens to be Mary "Queen of Shops" Porta, supposed shopping "guru" who is on the tellybox frequently whingeing at shop-owners about how rubbish they are. She is outraged at the way GAME have treated her darling son and tells him all sorts of things about how he should have demanded to see the manager, then promptly gets on the phone, shouts at them, gets hung up on and then demands to speak to the CEO of the entire company. In public. On Twitter. CEO promptly deflects her with his PR human shield… and the matter is still ongoing at the time of writing.

This latter part actually happened today, albeit with a 15-rated game and a 17-year old son who attempted to use his 16+ Oyster Card as valid ID for GAME staff to check his age. They refused—and good on them, frankly, for upholding a law which is all too often flouted by retailers more concerned with making a quick buck than actually ensuring inappropriate content doesn't get into the hands of kids. Mary Queen of Shops, however, was furious, though it's not entirely clear what grounds she has to complain. Here are some of her tweets on the subject:

You'll notice her casual dismissal of the ratings system as "we are not talking drink". Apparently some retail laws really are worth more than others to our Mary. She is also heavily focused on the ID issue, though implies that there was some non-specific "rotten attitude" from the store in question. When asked about this by one Twitter user, however, her only response was this:

No mention of what the "more to it than that" was. She hasn't said anything since, at the time of writing.

Now, I've talked about this topic a number of times. Censorship is a bad thing; but the refusal to sell age-restricted products to minors is not censorship. It's ensuring that people have access to age-appropriate material—a law which would mostly work were it not for the stupid loophole most retailers use to avoid difficult conversations where they'll happily sell the game to a parent even if it is very, very obviously on behalf of a child who is standing right there.

I don't for a second believe Fox News' nonsense that games cause rape, violence and AIDS. But I do believe that "mature" content should be kept out of the hands of minors until they're old enough to deal with it appropriately and not run around shouting "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" in the middle of the street. (Which they genuinely used to do in sunny Southampton.) Foot-stamping and attitude from people like Mary here doesn't achieve anything except devalue the law every time it's circumvented. If her son wanted to buy the game—which he was quite entitled to do if he had one of the forms of ID that everywhere else in the world accepts and not an Oyster card which no-one has ever* accepted as valid ID—then he should have gone prepared. And when he got turned away, his initial reaction should not be to speak to the manager as Mary seems to think it should be. It should be to shrug, accept the fact that he done messed up, like, go home, get his ID and then try again.

But no; the customer is always right, after all. Even when they're clearly wrong. You have my sympathies, retail types. I remember all too well what it was like.

* And if they did, they shouldn't have. FACT.