Prole Art Threat

“Terrible shame about Steve Jobs, innit…” shouted the pinkshirted suitmuppet into his iPhone in the sarnie shop this lunchtime, “…and on the day he launched the iPhone 5, too.”

Credibility, already badly dented by attire, utterly destroyed in one sentence. Impressive.

I heard that the Apple store in town is almost buried under piles of Cox and Granny Smiths (and a flower or 10,000), so I didn’t bother trying to get my dodgy MacBook screen repaired today.

What’s going on? The world is less one rich person (I assume the extra £75bn that the B of E just printed doesn’t end up in one pocket), so why this vomitworthy Lady Di Syndrome?

Get some perspective, people – he didn’t invent our way of life – he nicked the GUI from Xerox, stiffed his mate Wozniak, nearly axed the team that gave us Buzz Lightyear, and persuaded me to buy a mobile phone (not the iPhone 4 though, as I’m a weird left hander and the aerial’s got something against me).

That last one is actually quite impressive, I’ve never been one for phones. In fact, if I could delete the phone app and just have texting the iPhone would be ideal. But as it stands I still like it – it’s ideal for buzzword bingo in boring meetings, and I’m even writing this fascinating post on it.

But really, none of this is up there with penicillin, is it? He was a bloke who worked out how to make lots of money by selling us cool fun stuff that we don’t really need, that’s it.