Monday: Down to Earth Productions Presents: BUMP!
Not much more than a fortnight ago, I was sitting in a boat five miles off
the Pacific coast of Costa Rica with a fishing rod in one hand, a cold beer
in the other and not an iota of a smidgen of a molecule of a care in my
head at the end of a month's holiday following my departure from the
editor's chair of this august organ.
And so here we are: shattereddreams.com. I begin my first week as
editor-in-chief at probably one of the busiest companies in the country.
There are about 115 people sitting in a carpeted football pitch above
Smithfield meat market working faster than one-armed jugglers with
I may have possibly the first suntan my virtually translucent Celtic flesh
has ever managed to sustain but it wins me no favours here. No one is laid
“What are we going to do about the forward-facing WAP uplink sprocket
interface, Steve?” says person-I-have
just-been-introduced-to-whose-name-I-have-instantly-forgotten. What can you
do when you would not know what to do with a forward-facing WAP uplink
sprocket interface if it ran up and savaged your leg?
“I'll look into it.”, I say. It is difficult to be authoritative when
muttering through your teeth. However, as I settle down to my new role at
Interactive Investor I reflect on what an enormous project lies ahead, that
is, the creation, animation and sustenance of a high-quality online
editorial team much like a sort of virtual Frankenstein's Journalist.
I muse, too, that it is nice to be in the bosom of a genuine revolution.
There is something refreshing about a room full of people bereft of a
single Luddite. I mean, think about it, it was not such a long time ago
that the only bloke you knew who had ever learned even to type was the
custody sergeant at your local nick.
It is an unusual feeling for journalists, who spend their lives as
voyeurs, surreptitiously eyeballing world events from darkened, musty
crannies, scribbling down what is usually generously termed the first draft
Well. Not me. No siree. I'm not going to watch the revolution on digital
television and as soon as I find out what a forward-facing WAP uplink
sprocket interface is, I'll slide on my armband and man the barricades with
the rest of my e-comrades.
Tuesday: The mastodon Microsoft (we are not worthy) loses its court case
in the US, ruining everyone's breakfast from Guam to Godalming. But global
market shakedown ensues. Overnight, Nasdaq has thrown a wobbly and TMT
stocks are taking a bigger kicking than a foxhunter at an eco-warrior
rally. Trading screens are red with the blood of the glorious casualties of
Great Dotcom Revolution. Stand fast, siblings, stand fast.
Wednesday: Farce Over Elbow Productions Presents: Carry On Trading.
Or not, because someone at the London Stock Exchange was playing Tomb
Raider 12 on the dealing system overnight and Lara Croft has gone on a
drink-fuelled gun rampage inside the computer's silicon bits, causing the
entire market to be shut until exactly one hour after Nasdaq opens, giving
all the stocks a bit of a breather and time for investors to regain their
bottle and click on Hold. Lovely jubbly.
LSE registers domain name oopsadaisy.com, chief executive Gavin Casey
announces IPO setting off fresh technology sector speculation.
Thursday: Even e-revolutionaries have got to have meetings. Meetings –
that greatstaple of the British comm- ercial diet. Unfortunately, my diary
is bereft of even one.
Feeling left out, call up Sunday Telegraph personal fin ance scribbler and
MM hack Gary Parkinson. Discuss dotcom collapse over lunch and decide
article should be written on above for following issue. Rather, I decide –
he acquiesces when I pay for lunch.
Friday: Meetings pick up again, bringing relief all round. First is with
iii's public relations firm Luther Pendragon. They discuss how many journal
ists they are going to be pestering in our name over the following week and
do we have any nuggets of news with which to pester?
I chip in instantly that our forward-facing WAP uplink sprocket interface
is up and running and PR executives flush with excitement at forthcoming
national newspaper editorial. Whoever said technology was dull?