2020 Visualations

We are all interested in the future, for that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives. Since the Dawn of Time, men have sought to understand things which have not yet happened, but it's only with the advent of Techno Blog that we've really stood a chance of knowing what will be what.

Let's take a look into the everyday life of an ordinary man, who juts happens to live in April 2020...

6:30am - woken by the sound of N-Dubz, rapping a cover version of the national anthem outside my window. In order to combat the national laziness epidemic, David Cameron's government has installed a nationwide PA system broadcasting positivity-enriched motivating music, which wakes the population up at a pre-arranged time each morning.

6:51am - dressed and sitting down to watch television, on my 81" 3DHDDVDTV with an interactive red button (which I have to get up and push because the weather right now isn't favourable for running the wind-powered remote). I have only three channels to chose from; Man TV, Woman TV and Child TV.
Since the 2016 Television Channel Consolidation Act concluded that there were far too many stations and the number of possible channel names had almost been exhausted, the decision was made to simplify the system. Right now, Man TV is showing a documentary about topless women being eaten by sharks, hosted by Jeremy Clarkson. I contemplate this while eating my fair
trade rice crispies, and wait for the news to begin (which will be hosted by Vinnie Jones, live from the cockpit of an F-22).

7:12am - driving to work in my hybrid self-driving car, built by Reliant (who spectacularly re-emerged from obscurity in 2012, following a 25% drop in worldwide tyre availability, coinciding with an amusing internet craze for driving three wheeled cars). Some other car's onboard computer had road rage with me and tried to intentionally ram me off the road, but cars are now effectively crash-proof and I laughed it off in a cordial fashion with the fellow in the other Reliant. I'm not really driving to work, because in 2020 everybody works from home, but society hasn't quite got over the
primal need for rush hours yet, so I work on my laptop while the car drives itself around and around a one-way system.

9:35am - back home at my work office at last, traffic was terrible due to the new Post Office. Although they closed for business in 2015, local authorities soon had to open them back up as social centres for the elderly, otherwise the poor buggers would have nowhere to go to get in
peoples way. Hence the traffic; I swear they turn off the self-drive function just to be irritating.  Back home my Windows for Fridges 7 has just crashed and I'm a bit helpless when the my Hewlett Packard Autokitchen can't log into the fridge. It means I'll have to manually do everything. I'll have to look up how to make toast on the internet. Or maybe I should finally just get an Apple i-Robot. Will Smith gets a cut of each unit sold. Clever chap old Will. He would make a reasonable President
too; I wonder if he'll take the lead in the polls from Dr House.

10:40am - Self-conditioning boxer shorts have crashed again. This has been happening a lot since the 1st January, when the (largely unexpected) Y2K+20 bug put in an appearance, creating global chaos. I will, for now, have to fashion myself some sort of underpant by securing a towel around myself and locking it in place with a safety pin.

12:02pm - I get a worrying fax (the house contains approximately 18 fax outlets, although this particular one arrived via the one in the cupboard under the stairs) from my son's school, warning me that Jamie Oliver's Food Police have arrested a number of suspicious looking characters by the site's rear gates, possibly agents for Mothers Against Nutrition, a guerrilla force who have been increasingly active in the last few years, smuggling pies, cheese burgers and lardshakes through the bars of the electrified fence. On this occasion their plan seems to have failed, but we might not be so lucky next time.

13:05 - I had to take a half day today to pick up my son as the BBC Space Forecast thinks the solar flares will be particularly bad this afternoon. Probably see if I can reboot the fridge and get it to make me some ice cream whilst the scalding weather lasts as tomorrow will probably bring the usual floods.  Must pick up some of more daily flu jabs for the kids and some plutonium for the house reactor. It's become really expensive since the last barrel of oil was pulled out of West Lothian last june. I'll pop into the Tesco's at the school.

14:30 - Well it's started hotting up, it's 42 degrees already, and that is quite hot for Surrey, in March. The Fridge has got a virus from some Nigerian scam and has spent all morning ordering groceries to be delivered to Nigeria. I've shut it down now, but that's cost me nearly £5,000. I'll
get onto the HSBCRBSCLAYS website and tell them it was fraud. You'd think since they all merged into one they'd be pretty organised on this stuff.
Ahh well, I'll stick the soothing tones of Sir Terry Wogan on to relax. It's hard to believe he's been presenting Radio 2 for nearly fifty years, except for the small break ten years ago.

15:40 - didn't hear from my son for a while, then got a video call from my clone in Cheltenham. Apparently, he "thought" he had custody this week and picked him up from the school gates before I got there. He does this often, and it's very annoying! I've made a mental note to take out another huge loan in his name at the weekend. That'll teach him.

18:00 - got an email from the police, saying I'm under arrest on suspicion of virtual shoplifting from the Dorothy Perkins-Robert Millets Dyas website. The clone strikes again! I went straight to the Met Police site and ticked the box for "I was nowhere near there guv" and luckily they seem to have let me go. Last week, he hired cybercriminals to update the photo on my EU ID card with a ginger moustache. Bastard.

19:30 - The house has just shaken violently for 3 minutes. I lay on the floor under my antique Ikea coffee table, they really new how to build stuff back then. When it stopped I noticed some things had changed. The car in the drive was a different model, the walls in the kitchen were painted a
different colour and my favourite TV show, which was playing on the television, seemed to have an almost entirely new cast. I think this must be those bloody Swiss buffoons at the Large Hadron Collider again.

20:05 - I can't find my dog and there is a worryingly affectionate cat wandering around. I'm starting to fear the worse.

21:00 - There's a lot of email spam about right now, concerning the EU Presidential Election next month. The system is much stricter now than when we first began having presidents; Simon Cowell, sits behind a desk in The Hague with Jordan and Wayne Rooney, and they give each candidate a 30 second audition. I really hope the Germans don’t re-elect The Hoff.

10:35pm - It's been a stressful day and I'm trying to get some shut-eye. I left the bedroom door open, and the multimedia screenoid in the next room is still showing Man TV. Right now, Ross Kemp is hosting an upbeat program about giant diggers, standing next to the machines in a hard hat with a load of girls in bikinis, shouting over the engine. I find the sound of his voice soothing. Hopefully tomorrow the world will make sense, but for now I need my hip flask of whiskey... *sob*

10:36 - Damn those time-meddling tossers in Switzerland. My whiskey has turned into a sausage roll and my pocket smells like a Greggs.