Clive Sinclair’s C5 was less pointless than this: br A rice-paper mackintosh; br A chocolate fireguard; br A bicycle for fish br A reprieve in that ill-chosen moment immediately after br ‘Old Sparky’ had finished it’s white-knuckle ride br To whatever eternity waits in the wings. br Idiocies all less pointless than this. br br « Prove it.» br br But how and with what, exactly? br br Try proving you are who you are some day br To those who would misguidedly seek to ‘protect’ br The world br [And his very ex-wife and very current children] br From you. br br What would you do? br What will do? br br A plastic persona copied for a quid? br Passport? br Birth Certificate anyone could quadruplicate? br br Descartes was wrong: br Today thinking and being are as nothing br Before the blinkers and blinds of imperious bureaucracies br Where ten-tenths in paper is everything br And humanity doesn’t count for anything.