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Teenagers, born in the nineties, are a superior evolved species. A dramatic genetic mutation occurred somewhere amongst their tightly sprung DNA and resulted in the creation of this superior being.
This change meant as soon as they could move and flex their fingers around a remote control they were already able to switch on any machine, set complex timers and get probes to land with pin-point accuracy on Mars.
It has been embarrassing to ask little ones barely out of nappies to record television programmes, to set alarm clocks, and to connect us to the Internet, but as we’ve never had the faintest idea how any of this works it’s been the only way. Luckily, our shameful ignorance was only evident behind closed doors, and as our infants had yet to learn how to talk we got away with it.
Later, we were able to breathe a deep sense of relief when The Teenager sorted out the deeper meaning of life by unravelling the complexities of wireless networks, or by setting the timer on the cooker or by getting the DVD machine to work. We adults were able to sit back and watch with pride and awe as our youngsters’ busy fingers got to work and brought us the meaning of life in the form of Wikipedia.
All we had to do was to sit and watch like fat contented Buddhas.
Weaning is a dreadful process that we all have to go through eventually. The Teenager had decided that it was time to wean me. He was obviously concerned that it was now time for me to try my own wings.
It was my own fault, I’d caught him at a bad time. He wanted a programme recorded and he wanted me to do it unsupervised.
‘I can’t do it,’ I wailed.
The Teenager gritted his teeth, ‘Yes you can,’ he declared. ‘It’s easy.’
‘No, you do it. I might get it wrong,’ I argued.
The Teenager didn’t flinch. ‘This is what you do. Just five easy steps…’
He listed them.
I listened.
‘Come with me.’ I begged.
‘No,’ he said flatly, as if he’d just read the manual on tough love.
His face was set.
I went into the next room alone aware that I was about to try my wings for the first time and hopefully fly.
I followed the steps one by one as far as step 2.
Step 1 change the channel to number 8. I did so.
Step 2 change the VCR number to 4
Nothing happened, so I had to abandon Steps 3-5.
In dismay I returned to face The Teenager. ‘It didn’t work,’ I moaned.
‘What did you do?’ he asked coldly.
I went through the list while he listened.
‘It didn’t work.' I repeated.
The Teenager’s eyes narrowed. Laser light seemed to be zapping me from them as he asked imperiously, ‘And did you switch the VCR on?’
‘That wasn’t one of the instructions,’ I protested lamely.
‘That should have been obvious,’ the exalted one proclaimed.
I tiptoed away tripping over my unfurled wings.
Alone, I switched the machine on, followed the instructions and found I could fly!
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Friday, 22 August 2008
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