Going on and on, ad infinitum

“No, thank you.” That’s the printable version of my default response whenever the phone or doorbell rings or if someone starts talking to me or even makes eye contact for longer than half a second. They will be selling something and I am not in the buying mood. If it so happens that there is something I want, I will come to you. Until then, keep your distance.

Having the attention span of a squirrel and the work ethic of a three-toed sloth, social media has proved to be an ideal distraction from reality. My last act, as I lie dying on the floor with the cat preparing to eat my face, will be to refresh my Twitter feed.

However, I can no longer endure the waves of advertisements crashing relentlessly onto Facebook and Twitter. Every day, every hour, more and more hustlers, buskers and madmen are demanding my attention, money and sanity.

On-line adverts are the borer beetles of the commercial world. They go in through the eyes, burrow into the frontal lobes and lay their loathsome eggs in the hippocampus. Eggs which almost immediately hatch and flood the entire limbic system with overwhelming sensations of desire, greed and envy. Or, in my case, wrath. Speaking of which, how the hell did wrath and not, say, matricide, make it onto a list of seven deadly sins? It’s not difficult to be filled with wrath. You only have to watch CNN. Then again, when Evagrius the Solitary came up with the notion seventeen hundred years ago, I suppose he wasn’t being subjected to the rantings and witterings of imbeciles like Donald Trump and Boris Johnson.

Unsolicited advertising – not that there’s any other kind – fills me with rage. I would sooner have the medieval pear of anguish inserted into my bottom than have to live without the mute button on my TV remote.

For some time I’ve been engaged in what I imagined was a foolproof plan – one that nobody else had stumbled upon. A way around the monstrous algorithms devised by Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg and his henchdemon, Lucifer Archfiend, head of the IT department.

Alongside each advert are three dots. Multiply that by itself and you have 666. Need I say more? But let us leave that for a moment. Click on the dots and one is presented with four options – Hide ad; Report ad; Save link and Why am I seeing this ad? I always answer the last one first and the answer is always the same. Because the alternative would be to get off Facebook and work on my novel, which is no alternative at all. Not while other options still exist. Sure, if a man in a balaclava had to break into my home and tell me that he was going to shoot me in the teeth if I didn’t get off the internet and carry on with the novel, I probably would.

I’ve thought about clicking on Report Ad, but what am I going to say? The incubi and succubi beavering away in the bowels of 1 Hacker Way are unlikely to agree to release me from this digital merchandising hell on the grounds that the hatchlings in my hippocampus are wreaking havoc with my chakras.

So I started clicking on Hide ad. The robocops immediately demand to know why you want to hide the ad. I would be inclined to provide the same answer as Report Ad, but I’m not given the option. It’s either Irrelevant, Repetitive or Already Purchased. And this is where my Jedi trick comes in. You don’t tell them anything. You simply close the box. Keep doing it every time you see an ad, and eventually the message will get through that you don’t want to buy anything from anyone ever, and you will be left alone to happily skim through nothing more annoying than the mind-numbing lives of other people.

But the ads kept coming like some terrible electronic tsunami stuck on repeat. That’s when I noticed something. Most of the ads I was seeing had already been ‘liked’ by one or more of my five thousand so-called friends. The princelings of darkness in California’s Menlo Park were clearly assuming that I shared the same interests as those who have ‘friended’ me.

I struggle to understand why any functioning adult would shamelessly proclaim their affection for an advertisement. Do they think the company is going to send around a bunch of free stuff as a reward? That they will somehow get preferential service when they visit the store?

Ten of my alleged friends like Hirsch’s Homestore. “Wash like a Bosch!” If you need a washing machine and are particularly fond of Hirsch, why not just go there and buy one? Why drag me into it by arousing the algorithms?

Eight people, presumably of unsound mind, have a crush on that well-known sartorial atrocity, Crocs, and fifty others have attached their names to Coricraft. Sure, their couches are comfy but not so much that I’d publicly pledge my undying devotion to them.

Five people ‘like’ the Houghton House Addiction Recovery Centre. “If you can’t stop after just one or two drinks, you may eventually fall down the rabbit hole of a blackout …” Sounds interesting. I don’t mind ads which promise an exciting adventure into the unknown.

Eight people ‘like’ a shop that sells magic mushroom spores. This also looks promising. Makes a refreshing change from household appliances, that’s for sure.

But then a staggering forty-two people go and declare their passion for Jonsson’s Workwear. Why? What is wrong with you? It’s not a competition. You can’t win anything. It’s a range of knitwear, for god’s sake.

I am also bombarded with ads from companies which none of my friends have even liked. PoolSense is one. Why am I the target here? I don’t have a pool. Then again, their tag is, “Prevent those bloodshot eyes after swimming by keeping your pH levels just right.” I use beer to balance my pH levels and my eyes look like a couple of red panic buttons. I’m fine with that.

Another unliked ad that keeps appearing is GOLFTV. Even though I have written a book about golf, it’s not a sport I play, watch or want anything to do with. I was once asked to leave the Clovelly golf club. The ad says, “This is Tiger Woods like you have never seen him before.” Happy? Monogamous? Not off his face on Ambien?

Oh, no. I’ve just discovered that Facebook doesn’t differentiate between opening and rejecting an ad. Both are considered interactions. I’m only encouraging the swine.

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