Here we are in London.
Yes, like rats fleeing the sinking ship, we have left the United States of America and have landed on these Shores Of Freedom, this Rock Of Justice that is the United King-dom, a country where you can’t trim your toenails without it being recorded by a video camera.
Even in Hyde Park yesterday, as Janet and I fed crows and squirrels peanuts and potato crisps, I was sure that there must be cameras in the trees.
Cameras in the trees. Cameras in the trees!
Oh, I know how that sounds.
But if you were here, you would see the truth. You would understand.
Why, even as I sit typing here at the Internet Cafe, I look up and, at a glance, spot 3 cameras staring down from the corners of the room (there are more than 3 corners to this room, I just can’t be bothered to look over my shoulder) – not to mention the webcams perched at each individual computer station, staring like surprised cyclopes.
The upside to all these cameras around town is that your much more likely to get on TV. Judging from this past week’s viewing 75% of British television features someone being caught on hidden camera. In fact, one of the shows we were treated to on Friday night was soley dedicated to the phenomenon of private celebrity sex tapes being leaked to the public. It was appalling trash, this programme, but we watched it anyway – for cultural research purposes.
All these cameras around might make some people very nervous and, true, it does unnerve me a bit. But my exhibitionism luckily just outweighs my paranoia. As a matter of fact, I’m thinking about getting dressed up more often, just for the cameras.
In London, everyone’s a movie star!