I think I have made you aware of the increasingly common practice of going to a restaurant and, when your food arrives, taking a photograph of it rather than actually eating the damned stuff. Heaven forbid you should actually talk to your companions either. No, far better to get onto Instagram or Facebook, tell the whole world where you are, what you’ve ordered, and caption the image with a bold ‘Nom nom nom.’

This latter aspect is particularly irksome, isn’t it? It’s not as if you’re trying to get a reluctant small child to eat some dinner. You’re a grown adult imitating making nursery noises. Why not go the whole hog, and amuse your fellow diners by saying, ‘Choo choo choo. Here comes the train going into the tunnel,’ before every mouthful?

If you get as irritated as I do by this, things have got a whole lot worse. I know that’s hard to credit, but it’s horribly true.

There is now a website geared specifically to people posting photographs and videos of food. This site has the awfully twee and rather predictable name of https://nom.com/ which in and of itself should make you want to hit somebody or climb the curtains.

Here you can find photos posted by preening narcissists namedropping about what currently fashionable eatery they are in. I don’t doubt you can find photographs of six quid bowls of cornflakes in Cereal Killer in Shoreditch.

But it gets even worserer, hard as that is to imagine. People can post videos of themselves while performing culinary miracles in their own kitchens. I bet that there’s an awful lot of quinoa and kale featured, since the mob who macramé their own sandals don’t eat meat.

I now return to the perennial problem of the rise of the selfie. One of the worst technical innovations ever was the camera phone. Then we got the execrable concept of a selfie stick. FFS there was a bloke negotiating a roundabout in London the other day gurning into his phone on a stick out of the window of his car.

Now the latest innovation. The flying selfie stick. It’s not the same as those ridiculous GPS-controlled phone drones that self important prats use to video themselves skiing in Val d’Isere so they can show off to their impressionable mates. No, the flying selfie stick, which has a range of about 80 feet, is controlled, inevitably, by a watch app. This will enable you to take some high level shots of people’s bald spots immediately before pancake landing and breaking your phone. Rock concerts will be a bloody nightmare with midair collisions galore, or pissed greebos trying to catch the things.

Now do you believe the world has taken leave of its senses? It’s enough to make me wonder if it’s the end of days.

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