Show me the money (shot)

One of the most fascinating insights to come out of David Fincher's The Social Network, was the organic way that Facebook's functionality sprung directly from creator Mark Zuckerberg's own personal needs. Of course, Zuckerberg never intended to transform the way we use the internet, he just wanted to keep a beady on the relationship status of prospective girlfriends.

With over half a billion users around the world, Facebook is now the default social network for most of us, allowing us to catch-up with friends, manage imaginary livestock and explain potentially offensive internet memes to well-intentioned but naive parents. However, the area where Facebook has really come into its own, is in turning even the most well-balanced and stable people into potential stalkers.

Gone are the days when you needed a four-page spread in Vanity Fair to qualify for an army of obsessive fans - now all it takes is a regularly updated wall and an accessible photo library. Thanks to recent additions to the site's functionality, we can even keep our obsessive followers up-to-date on our exact whereabouts. Because this brave new world of stalkerdom depends on the implicit cooperation of the subject.

As nice as it may feel to have dedicated followers, we all have to draw the line somewhere. And besides, Facebook's restrictions on photo content means that we're only allowed to expose the minutiae of our lives, rather than that unfortunately positioned appendectomy scar. But all that's about to change, and we don't necessarily get a say in the matter.

Remember the good old days when a search for pictures of our favourite celebrities would return a goldmine of unconvincing nude fakes? We've all seen them - famous heads crudely photoshopped onto the bodies of anonymous porn stars. With little concern for scale or perspective, most of the images managed to make the world's sexiest people look like they were suffering from hydrocephalus.

Well, good news everybody. Now, you no longer need a functioning grasp of image manipulation software to picture that girl from accounts in flagrante. Just grab a profile pic from her Facebook profile and let FalseFlesh do the rest.

According to the official website, "In most cases only a few millimeters of fabric separates you from an amazing but previously unobtainable image. FalseFlesh can elegantly eliminate clothing from any photograph and provide you with natural looking nude flesh." Is it just me or is 'natural looking nude flesh' the least erotic proposition you've ever heard? Somewhere, Hannibal Lecter is rooting around in his pantry for the fava beans.

If you're wondering how it works, you probably need to talk through your issues with a counsellor. But just in case your interest is purely academic, "The software not only gives you the option to accurately fit included nude bodies on any head, but also allows you to really see under some types of clothing! This works on non cotton bathing suits by filtering out gamma/infrared rays of light and allows for the visual enhancement of breasts and nipples creating a see through effect. Imagine being able to copy/paste pictures from Facebook or MySpace of girls you actually know into FalseFlesh." Well, it'll have to do until Amazon restocks those night-vision binoculars.

Unfortunately, even fantasies have their shortcomings, so you'll be pleased to know that "FalseFlesh also allows you to modify other physical attributes of the subject such as clothing style and even body type." That means that guys with a breast fixation can reward their imaginary girlfriends with tits that would give Dwayne Johnson backache. And any Gok Wannabes can treat the women in their lives to a more flattering ensemble.

If you're not already thinking about deactivating your Facebook account, take a look at the stories submitted by satisfied customers: “The really cool thing that I liked about FalseFlesh was that you can either let the software instantly make some cute girl that you know naked or actually take time to customize it. For example I wanted to make this girl who works with me have bigger breasts than she actually did and also give her a lot more pubic hair than she actually probably really has.” Surely it's just a matter of time before some some canny programmer invents a 'restraining order' app for the iPhone.

More equal than others

According to dictionary.com, the word 'gay' can be taken to mean "having or showing a merry, lively mood". So I'm starting to wonder whether we appropriated the wrong adjective to describe the homosexual experience, since it seems that gays are never happy.

It doesn't seem to matter how much time someone devotes to advocating for gay rights, there are always voices within the community that pipe up to criticise or condemn. The recent fall-out over Born This Way's explicit commercialisation of gay identity shows that we're never completely satisfied. But I guess that Curmudgeon Pride doesn't have quite the same ring to it.

The latest exercise in gifthorse orthodontistry comes courtesy of Facebook's decision to add a new range of relationship status options to users' profiles. Recognising that we're a generation that simply has to share every detail of our private lives in a public forum, the new functionality adds 'civil union' and 'domestic partnership' to the existing list.

Relationships have always been a thorny issue for Facebook users - nothing has quite the same sting as seeing your one-time beloved's status updated to read "...is single", or when the object of your unrequited affection is suddenly recategorised as "...is in a relationship".

Trouble at home? Then change your profile to "It's complicated" and just wait for the apologetic emails to flood your inbox. I reckon it's only a matter of time before the list extends again to include "...is looking for a way out", "...is cheating with a colleague" and "...is only staying together until the kids are older". 

Taken at Facebook value, this new enhancement should be seen as a step forward, since it recognises the existence of committed, legally sanctioned relationships that fall outside of the realms of 'traditional' marriage. However, to some commentators, this simply highlights the 'second class status' of civil unions and domestic partnership arrangements. With the battle over definitions of marriage still raging, this simply confirms how many people feel about the prevailing lack of equality. 

For the record, I think it's a step in the right direction, even though I'm not sure how 'civil union' translates into an adjective. No-one grows up dreaming of the day they become 'civilly unionised'.

A few years back, I had to endure a painful conversation with a call-centre customer services advisor for a car insurance company. I was trying to get my partner added to the insurance policy, and although the computer programme in question allowed the operator to list me as 'living with partner', the subsequent tabs offered no option to change the gender to male. In retrospect, maybe the computer system just had trouble believing that a gay man would be seen dead behind the wheel of a Ford Focus.

As a result, the operator got very upset at the injustice of it all, regaling me with the heart-rending tale of her best friend and the problems she'd encountered when coming out. I just wanted a new quote on my policy, not the life-story of a lesbian in the North East.

Despite the changes, many happily partnered gay men and women will refuse to use the new status options, preferring to list themselves as 'married'. It's their way of making a statement about the importance of the word marriage in the fight for equality. What really matters though, is the fact that at least we now have a choice. Because isn't that what really matters, where freedom's concerned?  

My favourite mistake

Just ask anyone who's been shoved into a pair of white tights on the Ricki Lake show - they'll tell you that makeovers don't always work. It's nice to revamp your appearance now and then, but sometimes you just end up looking like Ann Widdecombe in a ballgown. 

Which is how the brand team at GAP must be feeling after last week's aborted attempt at updating their image fell flat with the public. To be fair, brand overhauls often backfire - remember New Coke? Somebody in Atlanta figured 'If it ain't broke, fuck it up anyway', and changed the formula of a drink that had been successfully flying off the shelves for a hundred years. 

The public reaction was furious, as though their favourite soda had been replaced with a bottle of piss-flavoured mouthwash. Coca-Cola promptly went from backlash to backtrack, and promptly reintroduced 'Classic Coke'. And the world's rapidly decaying teeth were once again clenched in a satisfied grin. 

Perhaps the brand bigwigs who decided to reinvent GAP figured they'd have an easier job on their hands. The products are well made, affordably priced and reasonably stylish, but it's a tough brand to get passionate about. It's a little like adding yourself to the Facebook fanpage for Cash In The Attic or Vileda Super Mops. 

So everyone was surprised when the company unveiled its new logo last week and the public outcry began. People were horrified that so much of their beloved logo had changed - but then again, with just three letters and a blue square, there was only so much that the designer could do. 

Out went the capitalised serif font, and in came the sentence-case sans-serif alternative. Meanwhile, that all-important blue square got shoved behind the P, like an ornamental plate hanging on a pensioner's wall. 

The public reaction was swift and brutal - this was the branding equivalent of Meg Ryan unveiling her new face. GAP had no choice but to resurrect the original logo and issue a mea culpa to the waffle-sweater loving populace. 

No-one likes to admit that they've made a mistake. But the cynic in me suspects that this wasn't actually the grievous error that the press coverage would have us believe. In the end, the only thing that this exercise has proven, is that even a taupe, loose-fitting company like GAP can have an army of passionate followers. And it's managed to snag a bunch of free column inches detailing just how enthusiastic its supporters are about the brand. Someone give the PR team a pat on the back. 

He should be so lucky

With over half a billion members to its name, Facebook is now one of the most omnipotent online entities in existence. Appealing to everyone's innate desire to be the centre of attention, the social media site enables people to share the pointless ephemera of their lives.

Of course, this comes at a price, albeit not a financial one. Facebook may be free to use, but conspiracy theorists are constantly speculating about the potential for people's privacy to be breached by the all-powerful web giant.

Matters aren't helped by Facebook's indiscriminate approach to censorship - they've disabled all kinds of groups, from holocaust deniers to breast-feeding mothers. However, Facebook's latest attempt to stifle free speech and self-expression might be a step too far.

At the centre of the controversy is a perfectly innocent picture of Kylie Minogue receiving the gift of a giant teddy bear during a public appearance at G.A.Y. Unfortunately, the pint-sized popstar struggled to get her arms around her ursine buddy, and ending up holding him uncomfortably, with a microphone still in her hand. The resulting picture looks as though she's giving the lucky teddy a happy finish.

Unsurprisingly, the NSFP (that's Not-Safe-For-Playgroup) image soon went viral and inspired more amusing captions than the final round of Have I Got News For You. But Facebook didn't share the rest of the world's amusement in Kylie's grabby antics.

The site's operators yanked (pun definitely intended) the picture from one fan's page, explaining that “We do not allow photos that contain nudity, drug use or violence.” It doesn't seem to matter whether the nudity is real or imaginary. Perhaps they were concerned that Kylie has a thing for 'yiffing'.

Although people are finding the whole debacle rather comical, there's a serious concern here - we're still a long way from the 'democratised media' we were promised when the internet revolution first took hold.

As long as the powers that be have the ability to control what information people share, we'll never be truly free. The one upside is that Amazon Kindles are much harder to burn than their paper-based predecessors.

Bare-faced cheeks

Gay popstars are a funny breed. We love them for their outrageous fashions, outspoken interviews and camp sensibilities, but there's something reassuringly asexual about them, which enables them to engage that all important middle-of-the-road audience.

Take Elton John for instance - he might be as camp as a row of tents illuminated by the flickering glow of a Louis XIV candelabra, but no-one ever actually spends a moment contemplating he and David Furnish in sexual congress (at least not if they value their sanity). Likewise, Will Young's endless parade of silly hats means we're much more familiar with what goes on his head than what might go on in his pants.

So what to make of the Scissor Sisters? Frontman Jake Shears is an unashamedly sexual creature - in fact it's hard to listen to one of the group's songs without picking up the scent of a water-based lubricant. He can't even take part in a photoshoot without exposing himself like Jodie Marsh at a premiere.

The group's long-awaited comeback album 'Night Work' was inspired by time that Shears spent trawling around Berlin sex clubs. And he decided to promote the new album by hawking his wares on rentboy.com in a series of revealing pictures (not to mention his 'escort out rate').

The Scissor Sisters want you to know that sex is on their minds - and short of sticking their hands down the jeans of every listener, they couldn't be more obvious about it. The new album's cover is a classic picture by Robert Mapplethorpe, the legendary photographer who found an imaginative solution for storing bullwhips and may have inadvertently invented the 'push and grip' tea-towel holder.

The photo in question depicts the impossibly pert buttocks of ballet dancer Peter Reed as they attempt to devour a pair of stretchy 1980s disco pants. The picture is so near the knuckle (halfway to the wrist, in fact) that facebook has banned the album's PR campaign in Italy and Spain.

Elsewhere, the band has been running a rather canny competition, inviting fans to submit their own alternative artwork for others to vote on. The end result being a database of images boasting more arseholes than Jeremy Kyle's guest list.

It's just a shame that a group which prides itself on artistic expression should choose such an iconic image for their album cover, only to invite anyone with an iPhone and a mirror to create their own version. I'm sure they'd turn their nose up at the record label insisting on karaoke versions of all 12 tracks tagged onto the end of the album's playlist.

Your parents 'like' this

Is facebook a force for good or evil?

On the one hand, it's a great way to keep in touch with all your friends at once without having to spend half the day composing emails to everyone in your address book. The flipside is that it's like a digital crack pipe, sucking you into its vortex of sheep throwing and 'like' tagging.

The Daily Mail has never been in any doubt - accusing the social networking phenomenon of everything from wrecking rental properties and driving people to suicide, to causing cancer. More recently, they ran a bogus story suggesting that young teenage girls could fall prey to predatory paedophiles before they've even uploaded a profile picture.

Since the journalist who penned the inflamatory article hadn't even been using facebook, the social networking giant was quick to respond with the threat of suing the Mail for the "brand damage that has been done".

So they're probably relieved to be able to report that facebook is figuring in another lawsuit - this time one that doesn't involve poor journalistic ethics. Instead, it's a court case focusing on the biggest problem currently facing most facebook users: oppressive parenting.

16-year-old Lane New is taking his mother to court for accessing his facebook account and snooping on his private life. As his mum Denise rightly points out, this is really just the 21st century equivalent of reading your child's diary or peering under their bed.

Of course, it doesn't help that Denise changed the login details on his account so he couldn't access his own page, and posted comments which he considered to be slanderous. Bizarrely, prosecutors have sided with the aggrieved teen, charging his mother under the state's harassment laws, which cover "conduct or... acts that alarm or seriously annoy another person.'

The problem with this, is that annoying one's children is every parent's prerogative. How else would children ever remember to do their homework or eat their greens? facebook has simply given the older generation a new way to show up and embarrass their offspring.

There's a whole subcategory of lamebook dedicated to overfamiliar parents who don't know when to but out of their kids' business:

The curse of interfering parents is now so commonplace that it's even inspired its own music video.



According to a recent report in the Guardian, more young people are living at home with their parents than in the last 20 years. So next time you complain that your parents are exchanging pleasantries with your friends on facebook, just remember that it could be a lot worse. They could still be telling you to wash your hands before dinner.

Lady goes Gaga over fans

When you finally achieve your dreams, it's very tough to stay grounded. For some people, all it takes is one whiff of success and they start throwing their weight around like a pre-menstrual Mariah Carey. So we should all be grateful for Lady Gaga who manages to be both grateful and gracious to her fans for putting her where she is today - even if that happens to be her own little world.

A few months ago, when she released the follow-up to her best-selling debut album, she treated the fans queuing outside the record signing to a thousand dollars worth of pizza as a way of saying thank you. Some might carp that she didn't bother to check whether anyone was gluten intolerant or trying to lay off the carbs, but in this instance, it's definitely the thought that counts.

The strange thing is, as pretentious as her stage persona might seem to some, she's actually very grounded. She's said repeatedly that she's driven by a need to please and delight her fans, and make outsiders feel welcome and accepted. All very commendable.

Yesterday, she went another step closer to proving this point when she added a link on her official Twitter page, along with the comment 'holy shit'. The video (posted below) was made by a group of friends who received Flip cameras for Christmas and decided to remake Gaga's award-winning video for Bad Romance.



Although they were working from a significantly more rstrictive budget, and the choreography is somewhat lacklustre, they can't be faulted for their commitment or attention to detail. You'll never look at a laundry basket the same way again after this.

Whereas some celebrities might get their record company to pressure YouTube to take down the video for breaking the rules over music usage rights, Lady Gaga decided to share the video with her 2+ million-strong group of Twitter followers. For all the fans who keep posting messages in the hope their favourite star migth notice them, this should be considered a major breakthrough.

Already, the video has received over a quarter of a million hits. But, ironically, this has caused something of an unforeseen problem for the young videographers.

A new note on their YouTube channel reads: "We're flattered some of you guys friend requested us on Facebook, but we wanna try to keep our personal lives seperate. So add our fanpage instead :D!" Isn't it funny how quickly people forget the fans who put them where they are today?

Raging against Simon's machine

Well, the numbers are in and it turns out that Sunday's result was nowhere near as close as everyone expected. Joe McElderry, the definitely heterosexual winner of X-Factor, was clear favourite for a month before the final - Olly never stood a chance.

But despite the judges' confidence, it's possible that the other predetermined outcome of the X-Factor isn't quite so guaranteed. A Facebook campaign to beat Joe to number one is now in full swing, and it may end up crushing Joe's dreams of festive chart-topper.

Established by imaginative rebels Tracy and Jon Morter, the Facebook group "Rage Against the Machine for Christmas No 1" was created to teach Simon Cowell a lesson about monopolising the charts. Lots of people, including regular readers of this blog, have been quick to join the group and pledge their commitment to keeping Joe off the top spot. But what will it really accomplish?

For a start, the Rage Against The Machine track is on the Sony BMG record label, the same as Simon Cowell's ever-expanding menagerie of pop puppets. So you may be attempting to convince yourself that you're sticking it to the man, but you're really giving him a reach-around - in essence, robbing Peter to buy Paul's download. Either way, Simon's getting a nice fat bonus this Christmas for continuing to drive up record sales.

Maybe it's all about making the point that Simon's acts are just temporary blips on the overall musical landscape? As if Rage Against The Machine can look forward to a resurgence of interest, given that 'Killing In The Name' only managed to scrape its way to number 23 when it was originally released in 1992. It's doubtful that the O2 will be holding any of its Michael Jackson vacancies for their big comeback tour.

But "it's a victory for proper music", they'll cry. Forgetting that Christmas Number One is traditionally the place where music goes to die. If a vote for RATM represents a vote for anti-establishment rock rebellion, why stick them in the history books alongside Bob the Builder, Mr Blobby and St Winifred's School Choir? It also doesn't say much for the song itself, given that these same 'music fans' would download the sound of Su Pollard hammering rusty nails into her own shins, if they thought it was rebelling against Simon Cowell's empire.

More to the point, if these 'fans' are so determined to fly in the face of convention, why do they even give a shit about who's Christmas number one anyway? It's possibly the most trite, meaningless accolade in music - the sales equivalent of being damned with faint praise.

And is it really a victory for real music, if the reason people are buying it is to cast a vote against something else? In an article on the Guardian Blog, Tim Jonze argues that this campaign is an example of democracy in action. If so, then it's the same kind of democracy that treated us to four extra years of George Bush. John Kerry hardly won any votes on his own merits as a candidate. In fact, a broken suitcase full of fish heads could have scored almost as many votes, simply by virtue of not being George Bush. That's not democracy - that's conscientious objection.

Ultimately, these newly converted RATM fans are simply trying to find a movement that gives them a sense of connection and togetherness. New Facebook groups pop up all the time, but here's one with half a million passionate followers. Could this be the key that we're all missing? For all its sweary, counter-culture rebellion, this song represents a coming together of people from all walks of life in a shared act of community. Now that's what I call Christmassy.

Keep it to yourself

Candy Spelling is horrified, and it's not because she's seen pictures of Tori in a push-up bra. She's only just realised that, while she's been busy berating her daughter for bringing shame on the family, the world of celebrity has moved on and embraced social networking as a way to connect with fans.

Let's be clear, Candy most definitely does not approve. Writing on Huffington Post, Candy objects to the 'new media landscape' and encourages her fellow celebrities to rely on 'publicists and agents and managers' (oh my!) for all their communication needs.

Of course, that's not to suggest that Facebook and Twitter are a bad thing per se - as Candy sees it, they an still be 'terrific promotional vehicles for Hollywood'. In fact, they only become a problem when 'human emotions' become involved.

It's hardly surprising that Candy objects to human emotion, given that she displays all the maternal instinct of a wolf spider. But it's strange that Candy should be so aghast at the idea of celebs airing their dirty dry-cleaning in public, given her habit of writing open letters to Tori about her many shortcomings and posting them on TMZ.

Maybe next time she wants to share her condescending viewpoint with the wider world, she should run it past a publicist first. After all, the new media landscape that she's so wary of, can be very unforgiving. Much like Candy herself.

Time to pay our disrespects

Regular readers of this blog will know that there is little love lost between p0pvulture and the Daily Mail, a paper so filled with bile and vitriol it takes half a pack of Settlers Tums to get past page four. However, this week, it's bloated harridan Jan Moir's turn in the spotlight, giving Amanda Platell a well-earned week off.

Since Sunday's shocking news about Stephen Gately's death at the age of 33, celebrities of every shape and size have come forward to pay their respects to the mild-mannered boy-bander. Tantrum-throwing hairpiece model Elton John called Stephen "the kindest, gentlest soul", whilst silver ocelot (well, 'fox' seems a bit of a stretch) Philip Schofield said "Poor Stephen. He was a really lovely guy."

A-to-Z list tributes aside, it's clear that Stephen's bandmates have taken the news hardest, pledging to stage an overnight vigil with his body, and displaying new tattoos in honour of their fallen comrade.

With no foul play, no evidence of hard drug use, and no suicide note, the Spanish authorities quickly determined that Gately died of natural causes, affording his family sufficient closure to concentrate on their grief. But it seems that there's no smoke without ire, at least not if you're veteran columnist and homophobic hack Jan Moir.

Proving that beauty may be skin deep, but ugly runs all the way through, Moir wrote a spectacularly offensive article, originally entitled "Why there was nothing natural about Stephen Gately's death". Bizarrely, the article managed to inflame even the cast-iron sensibilities of the Mail's regular readers, and was promptly renamed "A strange, lonely and troubling death . . ." (which is a little like declaring a gun amnesty, only to swap the firearms for knives).

In a hateful piece littered with speculation, hearsay and plain ignorance, Moir posits that to label Stephen's death as 'natural' is to overlook the 'unnnatural' aspects of his life. And it doesn't take a genius to work out that, when talking about unnatural behaviour, she doesn't mean covering old Cat Stevens songs.

She's far more concerned with the fact that Gately and his husband Andrew Cowles had picked up a young Bulgarian at a nightclub and invited him back to their apartment in Mallorca. Describing these circumstances as "more than a little sleazy" this real-world Dolores Umbridge uses the situation to condemn "the happy-ever-after myth of civil partnerships". In her beady eyes, the activists who call for 'tolerance and understanding about same-sex relationships' are wrong to suggest that they are just the same as straight marriages. And in this sense she's right, but not in the way that she thinks.

Denied full equality, many gay people have instead taken the opportunity to define the parameters of their own relationships. Rather than looking for mainstream approval, they simply do what works for them, and as long as it remains honest and consensual, what right does anyone else have to criticise them for it?

If she was looking for notoriety, Moir certainly got her wish, with hundreds of people taking to Twitter and Facebook to voice their disgust. Even more visited the Press Complaints Commission website, which crashed under the sheer weight of traffic. Advertisers Marks & Spencer and Nestle were also quick to distance themselves from the controversy, insisting that their ads be removed from the online version of the article.

Although calls have been made for Moir to be sacked, it's unlikely that any of the invertebrates at the Daily Mail will develop enough of a spine to do the right thing, so we need to find an appropriate method of counterattack.

In the truly repellent final paragraph of her article, Moir writes that an "ooze of a very different and more dangerous lifestyle has seeped out for all to see" without ever specifiying what other slimy fluid she's referring to. But I think we all have a good idea.

In 2003, gay American humorist Dan Savage decided to name the 'seeping ooze' after bigoted right wing senator Rick Santorum. The sexual neologism he created spread quickly and soon passed into common parlance, but only within the continental United States where the name had any kind of relevance.

Perhaps what's needed here is a similar kind of 'tribute'. Who agrees that Jan deserves to have that same ooze named in honour of her? After all, Americans have elevators and candy, we have lifts and sweets. We're two nations divided by a common language. Let's bring that tradition into the 21st century.

Don't shoot the MSN Messenger

Never happier than when it's blaming a youth trend for all the ills of society (and deftly removing all culpability from parents), the Daily Mail has given a name to its pain. And its name is Facebook.

For over two years now, the Mail has regularly used the popular social networking site as a handy target for everything wrong with modern society, in much the same way that it used to blame hip hop in the nineties, or video nasties a decade earlier.

The latest story to namecheck Facebook, features the sad story of Law graduate Lowri Ryland, a 21-year old beauty queen who resorted to plastic surgery after one of her friends poked fun at the size of her nose. Apparently, Lowri had always hated her nose, but only realised that something needed to be done when considerate friends suggested she wear a mask to distract from her prominent proboscis. Despite the story's happy ending (girl looks prettier, competes in beauty contest, updates Facebook status), the inference is clear - that she was driven to drastic action by malicious users of the website.

A week earlier, the Mail was ranting about 'cyber bullies' driving innocent teens to suicide, because 15-year-old Megan Gillan took a fatal overdose of painkillers after being picked-on via Bebo. Once again, the delivery method seemed a much easier target than the culture in which bullying is allowed to proliferate.

Not to be outdone in the 'out-of-touch' stakes, the head of the Roman Catholic Church in England and Wales, Archbishop of Westminster Vincent Nichols, spoke out against networking sites, warning that they could cause a rise in suicides. Following a line of logic about as tangible as real fruit juice in Sunny D, he argued that the websites promote the development of 'transient relationships' which, when they collapse or expire, can leave young people feeling desolate and isolated. So, much like high school then.

Not convinced by the spiritual justification for banning this sick filth(TM)? Try science instead. In a wonderfully surreal piece in February, the Mail piggybacked on an article posted in the journal of the Institute of Biology, to suggest that networking sites reduce face-to-face contact, increase isolation, alter genes, upset immune systems, inhibit hormones, impair mental performance, and therefore increase the risk of cancer, strokes, heart disease and dementia. No word as yet as to whether similar conditions can be attributed to the exclusive consumption of the Daily Mail.

So what's their problem, and why have Facebook and its ilk become the easy target for all that middle-aged, middle-class indignation? The answer is quite simple really - it's because young people have fun on Facebook. And that can only be a bad thing. From the moment social networking became a hot-button media issue, the Mail has regularly attacked it for encouraging 'ladette behaviour', drunken partying and the sharing of nude photos.

All these attacks haven't gone unnoticed, and loyal Facebook fans are fighting back the only way they know how - by forming new communities and networks to counteract their natural enemy. So if anyone's interested, you'll find 10,343 like minds here.

Blame 'Skins' (whatever that is)

It's the oldest trick in the Great Big Book of Journalism - try to connect your news story to a pop cultural phenom in order to create a tasty headline. That's how we end up with stories about cloning breakthroughs that talk about 'Jurassic Park' technology, or small town scandals described as 'the real Desperate Housewives'.

So well done to the Daily Mail, one of the country's leading purveyors of popculture-news hybrids, who managed to plumb new depths today with a story that their own readers clearly won't understand. In a story about a vengeful buy-to-let landlady who evicted her tenants after seeing photos on Facebook, the Mail describes their debauched activities as being Skins-style parties, before realising that none of their readers would have the slightest clue what that was supposed to mean. In a subtle piece of exposition, 'Daily Mail Reporter' explains "Skins is a TV series on the E4 channel and is based on the riotous life of teenagers", thereby invalidating the whole point of the reference in the article's headline.

As an aside, it's worth noting that the landlady in question, with whom the Mail's sympathies clearly lie, sounds like a revolting piece of work, particularly with the comment: "The tenants were found by a lettings agency, who told me they were a very nice middle-class couple...It very quickly dawned on me that they were actually a bunch of massive chavs." What a shame she didn't find a photo of her toothbrush in amongst those Facebook photos.