Our Swipe at things

It is a private matter, between me, my conscience and my Maker about how I eat my Cadbury Cream Egg and I will not, under any circumstances, be persuaded to divulge it.

I am under extreme pressure so to do and this is exerted through the medium of TV advertising every year at this time, just before Easter.

I object to such an intrusion but in today's information overloaded culture and with so much data available in the public domain what I do with my Cream Egg in the privacy of my own home may in fact be the only secret left in my whole existence. That is apart from the fact that I know where the bodies are buried.

I have recently subscribed to a service company who send me an alert if anyone attempts to access my credit history or financial records. This could be from a perfectly innocent search against my name if I have thought about buying anything or if I have stood as guarantor for my young adult children.

Alternatively someone could be stealing my identity and seeking to start a new life as me. I can only say good luck on that basis. I have every sympathy for your previous and current existence but you may not be aware what you are now taking on.

The amount of information held by third parties is astonishing.

In a quiet moment I will do what everyone does on the internet, yes, Google my own name. My best appearance is on page 34 which is a bit disappointing at face value but in the context of a multi billion page count not too bad.

I am a bit spooked by just putting in my house number and first part of my postcode in an online form and then being bombarded by every material fact associated with it. I seem to remember that the only thing that you ever needed to prove your existence was a National Insurance number or some reference relating to medical history.

When young I was mightily impressed by seeing someone present their UK Passport as proof of identity. I didn't have a real passport until well into my thirties. That implies that I might have had a false one but I mean to say that on the rare occasions that I ventured abroad it was on just an annual visitors passport but severely lacking the gravitas of its hard bound and authentic relation. In a potential hostage situation involving British Citizens such a non-descript document may not have drawn attention to my nationality. That may not be all that bad after all.

Personal matters that were Taboo just a few decades ago are now well and truly out in the open. For example, how much you earned and who your political sympathies lie with are now flaunted as badges of honour. If we believe the tabloid newspapers it is also fair game to let all and sundry know about sexual behaviour with front page tales of how much, how long and with how many setting the national standard and expectations.

Well, that line of decency and politeness has been well and truly crossed with a recent piece of TV marketing. Not so much crossed as used as a hop scotch marker.

The advertisement that arouses my normally tolerant and broad-minded outlook is from a well known brand of toilet roll. We are honestly being expected to publically express our favour for either folding or scrunching the toilet tissue before applying it to our obviously less than sensitive backsides. It may be intended as a bit of 'tongue in cheek' humour but to me and my sense of privacy it is just a bare faced liberty.