Feast of Fools

I gave up and joined Facebook. The Man officially knows who I am now (although I passed on the rather sinister Religious Interests and Political Views questions. That wouldn't freak me out at all if I was, e.g. a young Muslim man)

Anyway, I've been a member for a good week now and nobody has tried to recruit me into a glamorous life as a superspy - bit disappointing really. I have collected a few ex-coursemates from uni though, which is interesting and a whole lot less cringey than Friends Reunited *hawk* *spit*.

And continuing this week's Winston Smith theme, I pulled my credit report last night and was horrified by the sheer quantity of information available to any old corporate bod... not to mention the bastard catalogue company who have given me a credit line I neither want nor need (gee, La Redoute, I don't remember giving you permission to credit check me...)

I'm planning to spend a quiet evening in with my paranoia, wallpapering my flat with tinfoil. If you want me, I'll be sleeping in the microwave.