Confused young man: 'But it's useful...'

Tom Hodgkinson's critique of Facebook was replete with all the accoutrements of the worst kind of Guardian journalism: paranoia, misguided poetry, neanderthal anti-capitalism and total ignorance of subject matter. Calling it an 'ideologically motivated virtual totalitarian regime' as well as a 'takeover bid for the world', Hodgkinson champions in its stead 'real-world concepts such as art, beauty, love, pleasure and truth'.

'If I want to connect with the people around me, I will revert to an old piece of technology,' crows the Idler sarcastically. 'It's free, it's easy and it delivers a uniquely individual experience in sharing information: it's called talking.'

Further to that: The Idler, the blog of the magazine, edited by Hodgkinson, looks like a reasonably worthwhile state of affairs. Wallpapered with snails and containing some humorous anecdotes about pigs, it's definitely worth a visit. Unfortunately, the bolshy, stuffy PCness-gone-mad rubbish sours the sanguine charm of his writing. See, for example, the long complaint about not being allowed to slaughter his own pigs. It desperately wants to be a glorious panegyric to personal liberty, but it wanders into confusion after only a few sentences. A level attack against abattoirs would have been palatable. Not, however, feigned incredulity that the law chooses to intervene in the slaughtering of animals, which is clearly consistent with the existing laws against animal cruelty. Many people, perhaps not Hodgkinson, would botch the execution and cause the pig needless suffering.

Evidently, the man is an able raconteur and possesses a pointy wit. But in light of his total unwillingness to engage with his environment, choosing instead to scoff, Boris Johnson-style, at the unfamiliar and the innovative, I can only assume he comes from the 17th century, and has got lost.