Earlier this morning, young Clive Denby dropped by, and this gave me a perfect opportunity to ask questions about all this modern technology.

“Ah Clive, young sah!” I barked playfully. “Pray tell me. What is all this ‘blogging’ nonsense that I keep reading about in the Telegraph. Sounds like a load of utter tripe to me. What ever happened to the majesty of the printed word?”

Clive stared at me for a few moments with an incredulous look on his face, before he said “Nigel. What on earth are you talking about? You are the editor of a ‘blog’. That is why I came round here.”

“Blog…Editor…Me?!?”, I replied.

“horseMEAT”, Clive retorted, “What do you think horseMEAT is? It’s a ‘blog’. And you are the editor.”

Let me tell you, I was utterly lost for words. A ‘Blog’ ? I thought ‘horseMEAT’ was a new Quarterly periodical, just like ‘Le Moderne Edwardian’ and the ‘Journal of Exquisite Ideas’ (these are prestigious publications that I often contribute to).

Once I recovered my composure, I started probing Clive a little more.

“So, you mean that horseMEAT is not delivered through one’s letterbox each quarter. You mean that you can actually read it on that Internet thingy? Load of old rubbish, if you ask me…”

Clive nodded affirmatively and replied “Yes Nigel. They told me that you were not quite up to speed with modern technology…But tell me, how on earth are you getting the articles published if you never go near a computer.”

“I pass notes and dictations to my secretary of course. Don’t we all?”, I retorted.

“Yes Nigel,” he drawled, holding his head in his hands. A minute later, he regained his composure, then said assertively “Look Nigel, I’ve been sent round here for a purpose. It is totally ridiculous that you have been appointed as an editor of a blog, when firstly, you haven’t got the faintest clue what one is, and secondly, I doubt that you have ever used a computer in your life. Therefore, I’m going to give you a little help and training in order for you to make this transition.”

I simply could not believe what he was saying. At this point I completely lost my cool and started shouting “Use a computer !!! Do you ever think Oscar Wilde had to resort to a ‘computer’ to write great works and get them published. OF COURSE NOT!!! DO YOU THINK PROUST SAT IN FRONT OF A WORD PROCESSOR? Name me any nineteenth century author WHO HAD TO USE A COMPUTER…”

Clive attempted to defend himself and responded “But Nigel. We’re now in a different era. There is no comparison. You’re comparing apples to oranges…”

“GET OUT CLIVE, YOU LITTLE SWINE…YOU MAKE ME WANT TO VOMIT…GET OUT OF MY FLAT YOU DREADFUL LITTLE BEAST…AND DON’T YOU EVER COME BACK….” I was so mad that I threw a vase at Clive’s head. Luckily it missed him by millimetres, and shattered against the wall. Poor Clive looked so scared that I swear that he voided himself, then he quickly turned round and vanished through the front door in a matter of a couple of seconds.

After drinking a glass of champagne to calm myself down, I grew more reflective, and thought “Well, maybe young Clive does have a point. After all, many of the great writers of the previous century used typewriters to produce their manuscripts. Maybe they would have used a computer if they were freely available?�

However, I soon dismissed this notion from my head, lay down on my sofa, and shouted “Lucy, can you come in here and take down some dictation please.”