Sounds good to me

This has been a big month for Sonos. After six years of quietly transforming the way people enjoy, share and rediscover their music collections, they've finally passed a major milestone. As they put it - they're now playing music in a million rooms around the world.

OK, so compared with Apple's terrifying expansion and gradual domination of humanity's gadget obsession, a million units is pretty small potatoes. But Sonos has never seemed to be about scoring record sales or laying waste to the home stereo market - they just enjoy making great products that people love. They're the gadget equivalent of the small family-run restaurant that you have to book two weeks in advance. The kind that turns down the offer of larger premises because they worry that they wouldn't be able to offer the same level of service if they had three times as many covers.

When Sonos first launched, critics applauded the system's ease-of-use and Apple-worthy user interface, arguing that if you were going to kit out your home with wireless music, you might as well go for the best-in-class. The drawback, as with most things, was the prohibitive pricing. When I took the plunge in 2006 after some extensive home renovations, a three-room starter kit set me back just short of two grand. Since then, the range has expanded gradually, offering ever more affordable options. Now the S5 (with built-in speakers) and its underweight sibling, the Play:3, mean that there's no need for buying any speakers and cables. Even with integrated speakers, the sound is rich, clear and can fill a room like Michelle McManus in a photo-booth.

Aside from the product innovations, and regular software updates that beam wirelessly to the various units, Sonos also won plenty of goodwill when they launched their iPhone, iPad and Android controller apps. Whereas other electronics company might understandably charge for a piece of software that effectively negates the need for their proprietary controller unit, Sonos gave it away for free. So now, when we have a friends over, anyone with a smartphone can simply download the app and start commandeering the music.

Sonos is the perfect solution for a party - it's like pass-the-parcel meets the world's greatest jukebox. Pour the drinks, get round the table and take it in turns to add a track to the playlist. The only groundrules are that no-one's allowed to jump the queue or remove someone else's choice. If your collection is as broad and eclectic as mine, you'll be amazed at the random choices other people will make. This summer, we went from R.E.M to Lady Gaga to E.L.O, via Bugsy Malone and Bert Kampfert. You won't find that kind of tracklisting on Now 78.

Of course, there are other, more affordable wireless music systems out there. But with limited functionality and overly fussy designs, nothing really comes close to the simplicity of Sonos. Seven weeks ago, when Apple released their OS Lion update, Sonos suddenly stopped working. To cut a long and desperately tedious story short, Apple decided to change the file sharing permissions in their new operating system. And since Sonos takes the files directly from your hard drive (assuming you're not using a Network Attached Storage device), this meant that the entire system was locked out of the music folder.

As the technicians were busy working on a fix, the company was regularly in contact to apologise profusely for the inconvenience and give an idea of when the problem would be solved. It's not that I was completely without music, since last year Sonos finally launched its collaboration with Spotify. So that's several million tracks still readily available at the touch of a... well, a touchscreen. 

Don't get me wrong, I love Spotify. But those seven weeks in my own personal audio wilderness made me realise that, of all the ridiculous gadgets and gizmos I own, Sonos is the only one I couldn't live without. I know, I know - #whitepeoplesproblems. Even so, what gadget could you never be without?

Pop culture round-up

Remember that scene in The Naked Gun, right after the assassin crashes his car into a fireworks store? As an eager crowd gathers to gawp at the spectacular explosions, Frank Drebin tells the onlookers "Move along please, nothing to see here."

It's a pretty apt metaphor for what's happening in the world of news media right now. According to News International and the Daily Mail, this story has been blown out of all proportion by a cabal of left-leaning Murdoch-haters. There are far more important stories out there, deserving of our full attention. And this has nothing to do with the potentially incendiary contents of Rebekah Brooks' Brabantia bin-liners. So, to keep them happy, this is what you missed while you were busy watching Rupert drinking unicorn blood from a bottle of Malvern Water.

Going in for the Kyle

The toughest thing about gardening leave, as I found out over the last three weeks, is resisting the temptation to channel surf during the day. One minute you're just having a quick look at Lorraine Kelly and wondering when she transformed from Groundskeeper Willie into a Celtic MILF, and the next thing you know it's four o'clock and you've got a banging headache from watching Jeremy Kyle scream at his guests until he suffers a rectal prolapse. Although I'm feeling pretty fortunate about resisting the inexplicable allure of televised Ritalin, it seems that I'm not out of the woods just yet, because ITV has now announced plans to bring the dark prince of confrontation to prime time broadcasting.

Having singlehandedly berated everyone in the UK with a missing tooth or a pair of gold hoop earrings, Jeremy Kyle has been signed up to present a new game show. It's hard to imagine how Jeremy's aggressive, acrimonious style will fit into the chummy, encouraging world of light entertainment, but the clues lie in the descriptions of 'High Stakes'.

Promising viewers a 'totally new format', the show will see contestants competing for a prize fund of half a million pounds in a game involving "knowledge, risk and tension", as they try to answer questions and avoid 'traps'. The only difference between this and his talk show is that the traps won't necessarily involve blood tests and lie detectors.

Then again, don't be surprised if the contestants start off playing as a family team, only to have a paternity test reveal that two of the kids have to sit out the big money round. And forget about quirky sayings like "I've started, so I'll finish" or "It's good, it's not right", Kyle will no doubt add his own unique twist to the Q&A. If he needs to articulate the entire question before taking answers, he can just shout "Oi, I'm talking now, you fat bitch."

Taking a bite out of Apple

This week gadget fans got their headphone cables in a twist, following the revelation that a number of Apple stores in China aren't strictly kosher. The story first came to light when an American blogger visited one of the shiny stores in Kunming city. At first glance it looked pretty authentic - with all the right branding, blue-shirted staff and a distinctive spiral staircase.

But on closer inspection, BirdAbroad noticed that the stairs weren't particularly well constructed, the interior paint job was sloppy, and there was a tell-tale sign outside that read "Apple Store". As she pointed out on her blog, "Apple never writes 'Apple Store' on its signs - it just puts up the glowing, iconic fruit."

Even so, she described the retail unit as a "beautiful ripoff - a brilliant one - the best ripoff store we had ever seen". So if the products are genuine, the staff are enthusiastic, and the experience is a positive one, why is this a big issue? Because it's just not Apple.

Unfortunately, this makes those of us who'd buy a shoe box full of possum skulls, if it had an apple logo and a couple of USB ports on it, look like the vapid, invisible-robe wearing wankers that we are. I can try and convince people that I choose Apple products because of their user interface, stunning design and quality finish, but the argument falls flat if I'm put off by the paint job in the store.

As for the staff themselves, they may not have realised that they weren't working for the real article, but maybe that's not such a bad thing. After the controversy about factory conditions in China where the iPad, iPod and MacBook are manufactured, you'd probably want to keep a nice, safe distance between yourself and that iconic fruit.

I'm gonna get you, sucker

When the licensing laws were finally relaxed in 2005, our papers had a field day predicting the widespread carnage and destruction that would ensue if we allowed people to drink Magners after midnight. Of course, once the initial hysteria about alcohol fuelled armageddon had died down, the reality proved to be somewhat different. People still got shitfaced, and our A&E departments continued to resemble the green room after a recording of Take Me Out, but ultimately, nothing really changed.

However, just in case the boozers of Britain are about to find their second wind, we should probably take note of a little experiment that the police on Vancouver Island in British Columbia tried out recently. They wanted to curtail drunken excess once the bars closed on Canada Day, so they took one Councilwoman's suggestion and handed out lollipops. She told the local paper: "The candy shuts people up and calms them down, both through the sugar hit and the pacifier effect. They got calmer after taking the lollipops." The police are now seriously considering permanently adopting the lolly solution, but only if they can persuade local bars to give out the sweets.

Since most of us act like disruptive five year olds once we've had a sniff of the barmaid's apron, why not pacify us with a Chupa Chup? And for those who like to round off their evening with something a little harder, maybe we should start lobbying Barratt to bring back the 'Dip Dab'. You know, just in case.

Taking a bite out of Apple

Some people never learn. Already there's a queue outside New York's iconic Apple Store, as premature adopters line up to be the first to get their hands on the eagerly awaited iPad 2. So eagerly awaited, in fact, that people were already anticipating it before the original model even launched.

When iPad made its debut, Apple was dogged by rumours that it was already planning version 2.0 - especially since there was a suspicious space near the top of the unit seemingly set aside for a camera interface to be added at a later date. Last week, a sickly-looking Steve Jobs made a rare public appearance to showcase the new slimmer, lighter iPad, prompting cruel commentators to suggest that he was taking the concept of 'living the brand' a little too far.

Since the launch announcement, I've been taunted by colleagues keen to point out how obsolete my own iPad is, now that the new version is about to be released. Because Apple's true genius comes not from its product design, marketing or usability, but the extraordinary levels of brand loyalty that it's been able to cultivate.

In his original version of the script for Pulp Fiction, Quentin Tarantino wrote an extended version of the date between Mia and Vincent, where Uma Thurman grills John Travolta on his personal preferences. Mia asks her evening escort whether he's a Beatles or an Elvis man, followed by "Brady Bunch or the Partridge Family?" It's safe to assume that, if Tarantino was making the film today, his heroin-hoovering heroine would be trying to determine whether her date was an Apple or a PC?

During the course of last year, I underwent the conversion process, gradually replacing all my clunky computer hardware with shiny, brushed metal gorgeousness, to the point that we are now an all-Mac household. And even though the technology itself may go out of date quicker than mayonnaise, at least everything looks lovely.

When it comes to Mac-ownership, there's little to regret. Or at least, so I thought, until I saw a study conducted by UC Berkeley computer science major Kyle Conroy. With Apple currently being predicted to take the title of the world's first trillion-dollar company, Kyle wondered how rich he'd be if he'd invested in the company, rather than its lovingly-designed products.

I may have a pathological inability to read anything even resembling a spreadsheet, but even I can see the stark lesson that his studies present. Starting back in 1997, when Apple launched the PowerBook G3, Kyle has taken the initial market price of each new product and worked out what the same amount would be worth if it had been spent on shares instead. It's pretty depressing stuff.

The $5,700 needed for that G3 laptop would now be worth a staggering $330,000 - not a bad return on a fourteen year investment. Even the equivalent of a G3 Power Macintosh Desktop ($2,400 in 1997) could have delivered a $139,185 dividend. But you wouldn't get a cool, white drawstring bag.

Of course, as one commenter on The Daily What points out, Apple stock has soared precisely because people spent their hard-earned money on their products. Even so, you might want to think twice before you join the queue outside your local store for the new iPad. It doesn't take an Apple Genius to work out that there may be better uses for your money.

Flipping the birds

This week, Mac nerds were in heaven as Apple proudly unveiled its latest App Store - this time offering desktop applications to enhance your home computer. So now there's a funky new symbol added to your Mac dock, which means you can access the latest software and upgrades with a single click of your ergonomically perfect magic mouse.

Take a look at the App Store and you'll see it's just a more cost-effective way of ordering software online, with all the familar products given pride of place in the listings. However, one hold-over from the iPhone and iPad App Stores now making its desktop debut is Angry Birds, the most addictive time-waster since Saturday Kitchen.

Inspired by, of all things, the swine-flu epidemic, Angry Birds cost just $100,000 to develop. And thanks to its low cost (59p for the standard edition game), combined with its publishers' willingness to keep offering free upgrades and enhancements, the game has quickly become one of the most popular titles in history, making its Finnish creators Robio Mobile millions of dollars. After only ten months on release, the game had been downloaded from iTunes 7 million times, with the free limited version shifting a further 11 million copies.

With its bulbous heroes now internationally recognised icons, Robio was quick to investigate the licensing potential. It developed new versions of the software for other mobile platforms, an HD adaptation for iPad, and even began manufacturing plush versions of the avian assassins which are now available from the Angry Birds website. There's even talk of a film and cartoon series based on the game. Well, they can't be any more derivative than The Snorks or Battleship: The Movie.

But what's got people really excited is the forthcoming Angry Birds game by Mattel. Lovingly rendered in chunky, colourful plastic, the game painstakingly recreates the physics of everyone's favourite app in three dimensions.

Simply pick a card, build the structure, load your birds in the catapult, and fire away to score points. There are 56 mission cards to choose from, and the first player to score 1000 points wins. Of course, it lacks the urgency and accessibility of its pixelated counterpart, since every play requires the obstacles to be carefully constructed. It's highly likely that some health and safety-obsessed do-gooder has also put the kibosh on having any exploding birds. Or the triangular species capable of flying at bullet speed.

Clunky moulding and limited playability aside, it's interesting that this is a digital app evolving into an old-fashioned, plastic and paint game. Every new technological innovation scares people into thinking that old-world physicality and interaction will become a thing of the past.

And yet here's a computer game, only a year old, being made into a 'thing of the past' and we can't wait to get our hands on it. I guess the more things change, the more we stay the same. Still, I probably shouldn't hold my breath for the Grand Theft Auto board-game.

Reaching the half-way point

OK, so this countdown of the year is starting to feel like a bad idea, but I'm half cut on Fluffy Ducks, so let's soldier on and see if we can make it to the end of June

In May, Danny Dyer got into hot water for a misogynistic advice column, in which he told one magazine reader with a problematic ex-girlfriend to slash her face so that no-one else would want her. Donnie Osmond took a different approach, finding that the way to a woman's heart is through her vagina. Well, a rolled up poster of Donnie any way.

With the weather finally on the turn, it seemed as though everyone had sex on the brain. Westlife were promising their sexiest album yet (which admittedly wasn't much of a ambition), one enterprising young woman staged an online auction of her virginity (although it's not clear whether anyone sniped the highest bidder at the last moment), and a British Job Centre tried to recruit phone sex workers.

Sex was the last thing on Kevin Jonas' mind as he found himself occupying a separate bedroom to his new bride, thanks to his snoring. And anti-gay Christian activist George Rekers claimed that the young rent boy who accompanied him on his European trip was only there to carry the luggage.

Daniel Craig, Johnny Galecki and Chace Crawford found themselves fending off gay rumours, whereas the big outings of the month actually came as a genuine surprise - country singer Chely Wright and long-standing Sesame Street resident Bert.

Less surprising was the revelation that the Rolling Stones took drugs when writing music, which was a little like George Best admitting that he liked the odd tipple. This year's Eurovision also offered few surprises, once again displaying Europe's knack for key changes, glitter cannons and political back-stabbery.

Finally, May saw the end of two long-standing institutions - the Labour government and Lost. Both had spent years delighting, confusing and infuriating in equal measure, and both knew that it was time to go. In the end, it was the survivors of flight Oceanic 815 that were more likely to be missed.

As June rolled over the horizon, people seemed to be packing away the final traces of self-awareness like it was their winter wardrobe. Republican Aaron Schock denied being gay (and even announced he'd burned the outfit that caused people to speculate), Tara Reid lamented her party-girl reputation as she attempted to avoid spilling beer from a plastic cup, and Giles Coren typed furiously that he wasn't Mr Angry.

McDonalds shocked France with an ad that suggested gays might enjoy the occasional quarter pounder (who knew?) and Vermont Catholic magazine hit the news-stands with a surprising cover, showing a priest apparently offering a choirboy more than just his sacrament.

In the pop world, Beyonce complained that she was tired of the Single Ladies dance routine (despite Kanye west's vocal approval), and Katy Perry took time out from shooting whipped cream from her tits to moan about Lady Gaga's offensive videos.

Boris Johnson lamented the fact that The Wizarding World of Harry Potter had opened in Florida, suggesting somewhat erroneously that England could have done it better. I think someone needs to lay off the butterbeer before he opens his mouth. And Mad Men star January Jones was caught doing the walk of shame after a big night out.

David Cameron finally got his feet under the desk at Number 10, and was quick to send out invitations to Britain's most prominent gays for a damage limitation party. Speaking of which, the big story on everyone's lips in June was the terrible BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. Big-hearted gays staged a sponsored oil wrestle to raise clean-up funds, Sarah Palin tweeted that we should all wait for God to intervene, and Kevin Costner invented a filtration system that he sold to the government. Well, it's not like he was busy filming that much-in-demand sequel to Dragonfly.

Finally, June saw the long awaited reveal and release of the world-conquering iPhone 4, although Carphone Warehouse decided that I hadn't waited quite long enough. But the less said about that, the better. Can anyone guess what months we'll be covering tomorrow?

Terror has a face. Kind of...

Any aesthetics enthusiast will tell you that minimalism will never go out of fashion. And, at the point where technology and design converge, that love of uncluttered simplicity is even more pronounced.

Product designers seem to spend more time on form than they do on function, and will continue eliminating buttons, cables and readouts until every gadget in the world looks like a giant white pebble. With a big apple on it.

Understandably, no-one seems to mind minimalism when it comes to AV equipment. But when it's applied to fledgeling robotics technology, this design ethos takes a turn towards the decidedly creepy.

Researchers at Osaka University in Japan have been working with the Advanced Telecommunications Research Institute to create a new kind of real-world avatar. It's their dream that next time you're on Skype with a loved one, your new animatronic buddy would be able to replicate their expressions and movements. That way, you'd have the sense that you're talking to a real person, rather than trying to have a conversation with some poorly recorded CCTV footage.

It's a noble, if rather indulgent, endeavour. In fact, the main flaw in their approach lies in their strict adherence to the rules of 21st century gadget design.

Suspended from a clothes rail, like a partly formed foetus, Telenoid R1 has "a soft silicone body that is pleasant to the touch, and it uses 9 actuators to move its eyes, mouth, head and rudimentary limbs." Mmmm, sounds just like Grandma.

Despite the scientists' best intentions, the execution falls far short of the vision. They say that Telenoid R1 is able to recreate the expressions and movement of your friends and family, but it actually has all the facial mobility of Sharon Osbourne after a fire sale at the Botox clinic.

I can't say for sure, but I imagine it would be hard to maintain any kind of intimate or emotional atmosphere with Telenoid R1. Especially if you're whispering sweet nothings into something that looks like Casper after he gave up on all that 'friendly ghost' shit and hit adolescence.

The truth is, you'd have a more engaging experience by making a fist and lip-synching, using the your thumb as the lower jaw. You could even paint little lips on it, which is more than this freakishly featureless phantasm has to offer.

Just imagine - walking into a darkened room, only for someone to start messaging you through this demonic doll before you've found the light-switch. Nothing says "I love you" quite like soiling yourself over a live video feed.

iPhoning it in

The advent of the home computer, combined with widespread internet access, ushered in what became known as 'the information age'. Now, thanks to facebook,Twitter and the blogosphere, we live in the 'too-much-information age'. Everybody loves to share...

The upside of all this, is that consumers are now more empowered than ever before to celebrate the brands they love and denigrate the ones they don't. So it's in that spirit that I choose to change the direction of this blog for the day, and share my feelings around a negative brand experience. If this sounds dull, feel free to go read Digital Spy, and check back again tomorrow for the latest update on Lindsay Lohan's SCRAM bracelet.

A few weeks ago, I proudly blogged from the queue outside the flagship Apple store at Westfield, Shepherd's Bush. It was my first experience of the launch-day hoopla that tends to surround the release of any new Apple product. Although I'm generally averse to standing in line (not very British I know), I was willing to make an exception to be part of a rare social phenomenon.

As a result, when Steve Jobs made his keynote address several days later to announce the imminent arrival of iPhone 4, I realised that I'd caught the early adopter bug. Three weeks ahead of the launch, and I was already consulting my diary to see if I could wangle a late start on the 24th to enable me to stand in line with my fellow devotees. After all, a new Apple launch inspires the kind of worshipful pilgrimage usually reserved for South Americans when someone spies a likeness of the Virgin Mary on a partially cooked tortilla.

Actually, 'early adopter' doesn't quite cut it, when it comes to describing Apple products. The term is usually reserved for those brave souls who are willing to weather the teething troubles and embrace fledgeling technology before it catches on with the mainstream. With Apple, it's an altogether different mindset - more like the woman who signs her prospective children up for private school before her husband has even taken his pants off.

So anyway, there was I trying to calculate my best option for snapping up the shiny new iPhone on launch day, when I received a call from Carphone Warehouse three days ago. They told me that I was a 'priority customer' and as such, was eligible for an upgrade - would I like the new phone delivered on launch day? That's a little like asking Katie Price if she'd be willing to do it in front of a TV crew.

Today was the big day. My friend Drew spent five hours outside the O2 store in Islington, waiting to buy his phone in person - apparently the queue moved so slowly that at one point, a woman realised she'd left her wallet behind, walked home, found the wallet, and returned to take her place in the queue. It hadn't moved.

Meanwhile, I sat at work, checking the clock in the hope that my childish impatience would inspire the DHL delivery people to speed my package on its way. At 2pm I called Carphone Warehouse to double check that my order had been correctly processed. The customer service agent not only reassured me that my phone was en route, he even took the opportunity to up-sell a package of screen protectors.

By six o'clock Drew had finally arrived at work, blooded but unbowed, and displaying his prize like Conan returning from the battlefield. Unfortunately, my iPhone was nowhere to be seen. After half an hour of being passed around like a joint at an after-Prom party, I was finally told that I wouldn't be receiving my iPhone today. A clerical error had meant that a number of iPhones had not been dispatched from the Carphone Warehouse warehouse.

Now, I know that, in the grand scheme of things, this is not a major issue. There are fingerless orphans making the iPhones who have much bigger issues to contend with than the late delivery of their latest consumer durable.

However, the real issue here is that I was denied the true joy of being an Apple-apostle. The queuing, the banter, the palpable excitement, the body odour - it all contributes to the sense of occasion. By opting for the convenient shortcut, I denied myself the true Apple brand experience. And I lost out.

If you want to be part of the brand, sometimes you have to learn the hard way. And if you want your phone to arrive on time, don't ever order it from the Carphone Warehouse. Now, share this story with as many people as possible so that I can feel like I accomplished something with my immature sulking...

Taking a bite out of Apple

Ok, let's call this an experiment. Diligent readers of this blog may have noticed a mysterious absence of posts last night.
That's because I needed an early start this morning so that I could be part of a pop-culture phenom.

This blog is coming to you live from Westfield London where people have been queuing overnight to get their hands on the latest little object of desire. The Apple iPad goes on sale in one minute and excitement outside the Apple store is at fever pitch. Actually, that's a slight exaggeration. To be honest, it all seems rather muted - half of the crowd look like they're only here because their car broke down outside.

It's a very different story inside the Apple store which, until a few moments ago, was hidden mysteriously behind swathes of black paper. The staff are whooping and hollering for their media team like howler monkeys on meow-meow. Still, in times of credit crunchery, it must be heartwarming to work in retail and see customers lining up around the block outside your store. Even if it is strangely reminiscent of the depression-era soup kitchen queues.

A barista from Sacred has just poured me an Americano, courtesy of Apple. Despite the fact that Westfield's coffee shops normally seem like the embodiment of chaos theory, they seem to have a rather well organised system in place. One guy takes your order, writes it on a cup with your name, and by the time you reach the next corner your drink is ready. Not the nicest coffee I've ever had (it's as bitter as Heather Mills) but it's the thought that counts.

All through the queue, balding thirty-something men (cough) are Tweeting their updates, doing time-checks, and trying to work out whether Apple will have enough stock to meet the needs of all the shuffling techno-whores loosely assembled around the atrium. Apple staff are now doing the rounds, handing out bottles of water, presumably to wash away the taste of the coffee. It's a nice thought, but it's not as though the crowd is in danger of collapsing from heat exhaustion.

As the door gets closer, the first few satisfied customers are emerging with drawstring bags over their shoulders. No-one's screaming, crying or waving their new iPad over their heads. But then, it's never really been about the product. Even the journalists who've been filling the papers with breathlessly excitable reviews can't agree what it's for. As they keep saying - you just have to find out for yourself. Today is all about the brand, the experience, being first.

Revenge of the nerds

When Apple first introduced the Apps store back in July 2008, no-one had any idea just how influential it would become. In fact, industrious developers and tech-hungry users have joined forces to turn this gimmicky notion into a multi-billion dollar industry.

The apps themselves vary in quality, from the absolutely ingenious to the bewilderingly pointless. Does anyone really need a virtual carp pond, pretend pint or a fart-o-meter?

Thankfully, many of the widgets that have been developed over the last couple of years do more than simply provide users with an amusing way of checking that their phone's accelerometer is still working. You can check local traffic cameras, get real-time Tube updates or even track down your phone if it goes missing.

Back when mobile phones were the size of a shoe-box, the closest technology came to helping people locate their missing valuables was a voice-activated key fob that beeped when you whistled for it. Nowadays, it's a very different story.

This fourth-year computer sciences student put one of these apps to the test recently when his flat in Acton was burgled. In a fairly lengthy post on his brand new blog, he details how he was able to lock his phone, track down his stolen goods and get the police involved.

Using WaveSecure, plus Google Maps and Street View, he found out that his missing technology was being sold in a shop on the High Street just half a mile away. The stolen goods were successfully recovered (although they're still in police custody) and his inaugural post scored him over a million new readers.

In a display of ingenuity and real-time crime solving that would have the cast of 24 hanging up their electrodes in shame, our industrious hero was able to disable the threat in less time than it would take Chloe to chew her lip and triangulate Jack's phone signal. As a result, he'll soon be reunited with his purloined particulars and has ably demonstrated that these applications can actually be put to productive use.

It's just a shame that, even as this story was breaking about Street View helping to solve a crime, the innovative location software was being fingered by a somewhat less-informed source in another theft. Gordon Rayner, a milkman from West Yorkshire, has been telling the press that his mountain bike was stolen because Google's widget enabled would-be thieves to peer inside his garage.

It doesn't seem to matter that even the most eagle-eyed web-watcher would only be able to identify an old washing machine inside his garage. Or the fact that imagery on the site is at least six months old - Rayner seems to think that Street View works like full-colour CCTV.

Still, if West Yorkshire police need any help investigating this particular theft, there's a ComSci student in Acton who might be able to give them some pointers...