Neil Scott

We attempted to commemorate Armistice Day at work this morning with a two minute silence but the sense of contemplation was marred by the rude hum of the servers. I suspect that when the Singularity takes place the computers won’t be much interested in remembering those that have died. Perhaps they’ll establish monuments to data that was corrupted or hard drives that were hacked, but I doubt it.

One thing I have got in the habit of doing at this time of the year is to look at the list of survivng World War 1 veterans, which is surely one of the most tragic pages on the internet. Every year the page gets smaller and in ten years time it probably won’t exist at all. Thinking about the inevitability of death and how you might avoid it, I click on the Wikipedia pages of the supercentenarians, people who have lived beyond 110 years. They all tend to advise people to have a sense of humour, drink alcohol, enjoy lots of sex, and eat well. Or else, be a serious, teetotal, virgin. One or the other.

On Sunday, I read my ‘embarrassing’ teenage lyrics at OMG, Glasgow’s pre-eminent confessional comedy night. Having been to the previous two, I was pretty sure I knew what would work, but I was still amazed at the response. People laughed, people applauded; it was an incredibly gratifying experience and one that I can’t wait to have another go at. I was careful to not to ridicule my 15 year old self for two main reasons: one, because I feel sorry for him and two, because I am worried that he still exists inside me as a homunculus. He was/is a much more instinctive chap than me, but I think he would have been proud that his words provided some entertainment for people in these dark days.