Camera + minicopter = your very own Truman show

The week's most unusual business idea.

We live in a confused world. While we fret over privacy concerns - Google collecting our personal data, ID cards that can track our every move - we also merrily share the most mundane of details of our lives with an extended network of "friends" - it's perfectly possible for us to sign a petition against the sharing of our personal data while broadcasting our location, emotional state and shopping habits without a moment's thought for the blatant disconnect that's going on here.

Regardless of the walking contradiction our lives have become, new business ideas keep popping up that make the most of our predilection for over-sharing. So the introduction of the MeCam was only a matter of time - a mini helicopter that flies around you filming your every move, the results of which can then be shared with social networks. If you thought that your friend's endless stream of instagrammed dinner plates was worthy of a shot in the head then you'd do well to remove yourself from society if this latest idea is an indicator of things to come.

Of course, there are situations where this little gadget could be useful, say you stumble across a mugger down a dark alley then you've got a neat little prosecution case in the subsequent footage. Equally, court cases that have fallen apart because of a lack of evidence or witnesses at the crime scene could benefit from an inconspicuous little hover cam capturing every second.

But so far the inventors are guiding their robotic gnat down a social avenue. This means that every second of your daily life can be shared - we can all become the subject of our very own Truman Show, but without the creative direction, interesting characters or narrative arc. It does beg the question, with all this watching who's doing the living? But who cares when you can replay your friend falling face first into a puddle of mud endlessly on repeat.

Under surveillance. Photograph: Getty Images
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An alternative Trainspotting script for John Humphrys’ Radio 4 “Choose Life” tribute

Born chippy.

Your mole often has Radio 4’s Today programme babbling away comfortingly in the background while emerging blinking from the burrow. So imagine its horror this morning, when the BBC decided to sully this listening experience with John Humphrys doing the “Choose Life” monologue from Trainspotting.

“I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got Radio 4?” he concluded, as a nation cringed.

Introduced as someone who has “taken issue with modernity”, Humphrys launched into the film character Renton’s iconic rant against the banality of modern life.

But Humphrys’ role as in-studio curmudgeon is neither endearing nor amusing to this mole. Often tasked with stories about modern technology and digital culture by supposedly mischievous editors, Humphrys sounds increasingly cranky and ill-informed. It doesn’t exactly make for enlightening interviews. So your mole has tampered with the script. Here’s what he should have said:

“Choose life. Choose a job and then never retire, ever. Choose a career defined by growling and scoffing. Choose crashing the pips three mornings out of five. Choose a fucking long contract. Choose interrupting your co-hosts, politicians, religious leaders and children. Choose sitting across the desk from Justin Webb at 7.20 wondering what you’re doing with your life. Choose confusion about why Thought for the Day is still a thing. Choose hogging political interviews. Choose anxiety about whether Jim Naughtie’s departure means there’s dwindling demand for grouchy old men on flagship political radio shows. Choose a staunch commitment to misunderstanding stories about video games and emoji. Choose doing those stories anyway. Choose turning on the radio and wondering why the fuck you aren’t on on a Sunday morning as well. Choose sitting on that black leather chair hosting mind-numbing spirit-crushing game shows (Mastermind). Choose going over time at the end of it all, pishing your last few seconds on needlessly combative questions, nothing more than an obstacle to that day’s editors being credited. Choose your future. Choose life . . .”

I'm a mole, innit.