Why BT should have got Mandy naked

"Please enter your pin now, and don't pull the chain"

Yesterday BT sent a letter to Lord Mandelson threatening legal action if he follows through with his plans for broadband liberalisation, but today it lightened the mood somewhat with daring real-life tales of people conducting conference calls in their birthday suit.

BT handles roughly 15 million audio conferences a year. It has now conducted research which finds that 68 per cent admit they have dialled in to a conference call while wearing pyjamas: the most common colour or style is not recorded. But presumably those 68 per cent are among those people who are able to work from home, rather than those who take their conference calls at the office. Not least because nearly half say they have joined conference calls in their undies, and 20 per cent say they have joined a conference call starkers.

The telecoms giant said the growth in the use of conference calls (the number of people using BT audio conferencing was up almost 20 per cent year on year) has led to calls being conducted not just in the nude, but in some rather odd places, too.

The most popular place to hold a conference call was in bed (you see, the wearing of pyjamas is actually rather sensible, given the circumstances), followed by the toilet.

Why so many conference calls should be taken in the smallest room in the house is open to debate. When you've gotta go, you've gotta go, one supposes. But there is also the fact it's often the only room in the house with a lock. And with children, pets and partners around, people might want others on the call to have at least the illusion that they are focused on work, and not merely skiving off to play with the kids/dogs/PlayStation. (Another recent study found that one in four men has pulled a "sickie" in order to stay at home and play video games, the dweebs.)

With many respondents telling BT that they had been disturbed while on a conference call by babies crying, cats miaowing, dogs barking, or kettles boiling, you can see why so many people head to the bog when about to "face" their colleagues on a conference call.

This is not without its dangers, though -- many respondents said a conference call had been interrupted by the sound of a toilet flushing, which is surely bad call etiquette in anyone's book. Those taking the call in the smallest room could at least save their flush until the call has ended?

But BT is trying to make a serious point too, natch.

It says that in 2008, using conferencing helped it to cut out more than 700,000 face-to-face meetings and 1.4 million journeys, saving 53,000 tonnes of CO2. Which is certainly not to be sniffed at (and anyway, CO2 is odourless, unlike the atmosphere on many conference calls, judging by the research).

But perhaps all these naked, loo-based conference callers could soon become an endangered species, as the analyst firm Ovum says that 26 per cent of conferences will be held by video by 2012.

So perhaps, instead of sending Mandy a "letter before action" about his broadband liberalisation plans, BT should have got him on a naked conference call. It might have been our last chance to see whether he's a conference call flusher.

Jason Stamper is the New Statesman technology correspondent and editor of Computer Business Review

 

Jason Stamper is editor of Computer Business Review

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Leader: Mourning in Manchester

Yet another attack shows we are going to have to get to used to the idea that our liberalism and our freedoms can only be preserved by a strong state.

Children are murdered and maimed by a suicide bomber as they are leaving a pop concert in Manchester. As a consequence, the government raises the terror threat to “critical”, which implies that another attack is imminent, and the army is sent out on to the streets of our cities in an attempt to reassure and encourage all good citizens to carry on as normal. The general election campaign is suspended. Islamic State gleefully denounces the murdered and wounded as “crusaders” and “polytheists”.

Meanwhile, the usual questions are asked, as they are after each new Islamist terrorist atrocity. Why do they hate us so much? Have they no conscience or pity or sense of fellow feeling? We hear, too, the same platitudes: there is more that unites us than divides us, and so on. And so we wait for the next attack on innocent civilians, the next assault on the free and open society, the next demonstration that Islamism is the world’s most malignant and dangerous ideology.

The truth of the matter is that the Manchester suicide bomber, Salman Ramadan Abedi, was born and educated in Britain. He was 22 when he chose to end his own life. He had grown up among us: indeed, like the London bombers of 7 July 2005, you could call him, however reluctantly, one of us. The son of Libyan refugees, he supported Manchester United, studied business management at Salford University and worshipped at Didsbury Mosque. Yet he hated this country and its people so viscerally that he was prepared to blow himself up in an attempt to murder and wound as many of his fellow citizens as possible.

The Manchester massacre was an act of nihilism by a wicked man. It was also sadly inevitable. “The bomb was,” writes the Mancunian cultural commentator Stuart Maconie on page 26, “as far as we can guess, an attack on the fans of a young American woman and entertainer, on the frivolousness and foolishness and fun of young girlhood, on lipstick and dressing up and dancing, on ‘boyfs’ and ‘bezzies’ and all the other freedoms that so enrage the fanatics and contradict their idiot dogmas. Hatred of women is a smouldering core of their wider, deeper loathing for us. But to single out children feels like a new low of wickedness.”

We understand the geopolitical context for the atrocity. IS is under assault and in retreat in its former strongholds of Mosul and Raqqa. Instead of urging recruits to migrate to the “caliphate”, IS has been urging its sympathisers and operatives in Europe to carry out attacks in their countries of residence. As our contributing writer and terrorism expert, Shiraz Maher, explains on page 22, these attacks are considered to be acts of revenge by the foot soldiers and fellow-travellers of the caliphate. There have been Western interventions in Muslim lands and so, in their view, all civilians in Western countries are legitimate targets for retaliatory violence.

An ever-present threat of terrorism is the new reality of our lives in Europe. If these zealots can murder children at an Ariana Grande concert in Manchester, there is no action that they would not consider unconscionable. And in this country there are many thousands – perhaps even tens of thousands – who are in thrall to Islamist ideology. “Terror makes the new future possible,” the American Don DeLillo wrote in his novel Mao II, long before the al-Qaeda attacks of 11 September 2001. The main work of terrorists “involves mid-air explosions and crumbled buildings. This is the new tragic narrative.”

Immediately after the Paris attacks in November 2015, John Gray reminded us in these pages of how “peaceful coexistence is not the default condition of modern humankind”. We are going to have to get used to the idea that our liberalism and our freedoms can only be preserved by a strong state. “The progressive narrative in which freedom is advancing throughout the world has left liberal societies unaware of their fragility,” John Gray wrote. Liberals may not like it, but a strong state is the precondition of any civilised social order. Certain cherished freedoms may have to be compromised. This is the new tragic narrative.

This article first appeared in the 25 May 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Why Islamic State targets Britain

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