Microsoft's social network

This week, Microsoft radically extended the services offered on their service. Previously i

It’s a key strike in the MS strategy to win back some ground from Google, offering a tight integration with the Windows ecosystem and laying the foundations for the upcoming introduction of Windows 7 next year. Despite the picasa/ flickr alternatives and file sharing servives, the overwhelming sensation is one of being connected - the ‘Live Profiles’ feature in particular representing a clear challenge to the current leaders of the social networking scene. Redmond needs to do something fast. With the botched launch of Vista still smarting and browser-based applications beginning to eat away at their boxed-product market share, moving aggressively towards the socialised web app space is the only real option.

Of course, you’d be right to be suspicious. The instinctive and accepted response to Microsoft attempting to do anything which involves humanity (such as social networking or even comedic advertising) is of course howls of derisive laughter. The idea that the uber-capitalist machine is incapable of delivering anything like the warmth of community that something like Facebook can create is crazy because they’re simply too, y’know, Microsoft.

But, whilst every atom in my body distrusts their them, the numbers once again batter me into submission. The way in which MS can win this is through what is often perceived as one of their most trivial and inane distractions : Instant Messaging. Their Windows Live Messenger client (formally MSN Messenger) boasts some 268 million individual users worldwide, all of whom need simply to log into the new site to slouch over to it and adopt it as their social-network home of choice. Just to log-in in the service is to be effortlessly and instantaneously connected to all your msn pals the world over. They likely already have their trojan installed on your machine, and one of your family is chatting to their friends on it.

Iain Simons writes, talks and tweets about videogames and technology. His new book, Play Britannia, is to be published in 2009. He is the director of the GameCity festival at Nottingham Trent University.
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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood