But seriously, there must be loads of industries completely done over by new technological developments.

What about telephone companies once mobile phones hit the market? I don’t think I know anyone with a landline anymore, except for my parents.

Mobile phone companies must have thought they’d hit the jackpot when texting first launched at 10p a pop, until social network sites let all the teenagers communicate for free with their mates.

I suppose these companies have gained again really with the advent of mobile internet, but all of it brings again another problem/benefit; depending on who you are: relationship infidelity.

I read this article yesterday, which if you want to you can read here, and it may have just been my maudlin Monday afternoon mood, but I think it put into permanent words many depressing truths, and managed to kill off whatever romantic slivers still remained in me.

If you haven’t bothered to read it all (it’s well long) fear not as here I shall summarise: the human race is no longer monogamous, eroticism is not encouraged by closeness and intimacy, but quite the opposite, and ‘cheating’ in every which way and form has increased massively thanks to all the available avenues technology has presented us with.

It basically says that your partner will DEFINITELY have said a lot of things to someone of the opposite sex, via various technologies, which blur the lines of friendship, and that they deliberately hide this from you.

Plus whatever else they may get up to online.

It’s harrowing to realise that your partner no longer sees you ‘in that way’, and prefers the virtual fantasy world to anything you can possibly offer.

I don’t know what constitutes cheating by VoIP phones and what doesn’t, but I feel even more depressed about relationships, humans and the failed ambitions of love then ever before, and thought you should too! Happy Tuesday!

Mums, that’s who. And they expect the same in return.

Mums would be horribly offended to receive ecards on Mother’s Day. They would deliberately not check their emails that day, especially if they suspected that you may have sent them an ecard.

This is because mums feel that you should feel incredibly indebted to them; they gave you life ergo you should be eternally grateful.

This is fine and fair enough really, but it depends on how you feel about life. Sometimes, some people feel like it would have been easier and better if they had never been born, and on this day must feel pretty resentful. But that’s not really their mum’s fault; things can go either way before you are born.

You can be born a talented fitty that oozes charm and sophistication, or you could be an introverted wreck, aesthetically challenged and angry at the world. The latter people must wish they could just send ecards and be done with it on Mother’s Day.

But mums are brilliant and great to have around. The only person I truly rely on and trust is my mum, and amongst all the pretenders with ulterior motives, my mum’s the only person I know truly cares about me and wants the best for me.

Say you have an amazing idea, something that is just simply so brilliant, but then you speak to some product designers, find out how much it would cost to manufacture it, and discover it costs too much to make.

There must be loads of brilliant ideas that just haven’t come to fruition because it’s not economically viable.

I’m going to tell you now about some ideas I have that I think, if made, would really enrich my life beyond belief.

I’m a big fan of attention. Not emotional attention, but physical. I love to have my hair stroked as I watch TV, or have a really nice massage. Ideally I’d have these things every night, but I’d settle for every other night.

I don’t have any human in my life that’s willing to indulge me in this kind of pleasure, so there’s the deficit; the need for a product.

Now, a nice robot to carry all of this out would be just super. It could massage my back when I woke up in the morning, and stroke my hair at night when I went to bed or when I watch the telly. It would be heaven; we’d be happy, me and the robot. The robot wouldn’t mind because he doesn’t have a mind to mind with, does he?

I’d love the robot. I’d actually love an inanimate object.

Of course, product designers would say it’s not possible, it’s not economically viable.

This is a very selfish want, of course, and on a wider scale, capitalism affects others in more serious ways.

For example, if you were unlucky enough to fall ill with cancer, there are a host of drugs in existence that would offer you a high chance of eradicating the disease from your body, but whether you receive them or not is all down to money. If the companies that made the drugs charge a lot of money for them, you probably won’t be given them , unless you pay for them yourself.

This is one of the sick and sad facets to modern economic systems, but then look at what Stalin did; not exactly perfect either. What’s the answer?

One of the best themed parties I went to was a couple of years ago and the theme was ‘dead Christmas number ones’. Someone turned up as Kirsty Maccoll, complete with a model speedboat protruding from a hat on their head. All in excellent taste.

But themed parties can go either way, really, and depending on the company you keep you can end up with a roomful of poncey overdressed idiots, or a room full of nothing except thin air.

That seems to be the way that people roll; they are either really, really up for dressing up and going to town on their outfits, buying all sorts of ad-ons and modifying their clothes for the do, or they categorical DO NOT WANT TO DRESS UP, believing themselves to be far too cool for such malarkey, or simply being too shy.

It’s also one of those things we do to mark ourselves out as humans by being cultured; man’s attempt to distance himself from his faeces.

I’ve managed to quash my inner hypochondriac who plagued much of my teenage years during which time if I had a pain in my head I was convinced it was a tumour, or one bruise too many on my leg and I surely had leukaemia, but those nights I spent unable to sleep for fear that I would die in the night of my obvious ailments would have been eradicated if only I could have had a body service.

I’m sure such a thing exists, but it’s got to be expensive, so hardly anyone can afford it. What if they ran services at £20 or £30 a pop though? Surely everyone would sign up and they’d make a killing(!).

We are all dying, there’s no getting away from that, but no one wants to die prematurely and in pain. Unless your Thanos is sky high, you want to stay alive.

I think it’s a good idea. All this boiler service, car service malarkey is necessary I suppose, but what’s more necessary, your boiler or your life? Hmm?

Boiler? Life?

But would a life service REALLY put an end to worrying, or would you just shift your worry elsewhere?

I have a theory that we all have this band of worry we carry around, and the worry never really lessens or grows, it just moves to different things. For example, if you were being bullied at school, you’d have a constant knot of worry in your belly. Then one day (you’re a particularly unlucky person in this story) you discover you have six months to live.

This worry would shift away from the bullying and on to the dying, but wouldn’t necessarily increase or decrease.

A different subject would occupy the band of worry that we all must bear.

We need to worry.

That is somewhat of an exaggeration; what I mean is that the recession has been good in many ways for the consumer, and not everyone’s taking advantage of it.

There are loads of money saving vouchers kicking around on the internet, and they aren’t even that hard to find.

Vouchers are for all kinds of popular pastimes and pursuits, but my favourites are restaurant vouchers and shopping vouchers, and this is because I’m a girl ergo I like eating nice food in restaurants and shopping, obviously.

Vouchercodes.co.uk is a great site; you can search for vouchers for a particular place or shop on the site, and have the 20 best vouchers emailed to you each week. These vouchers generally encompass all the usual restaurant chain favourites, Prezzos, Pizza Express, that kind of thing, as well as discounts for stores like Debenhams and New Look. Check it if you haven’t already!

Moohaa if I cause a recession everyone will think I'm the Messiah

Another good site is moneysavingexpert.com. I like the shopping vouchers page, which you can find here, but in general the site is pretty damn hard to beat with the heaps of advice and money-saving exclusives, tips and hints. Martin Lewis is a hero in my opinion, though I’m not convinced he didn’t somehow cause the recession. Word.

Well, maybe more a waste of money than time, but still, for the couple, a waste of time too. All that time spent scrutinising wedding venues, wedding outfits, menus; whatever else you need to organise for a wedding.

Don’t get me wrong, I totally love a good wedding party, but then I like ANY kind of party, or any situation in which you can have a drink and a good time.

But with most of the weddings I’ve been to I couldn’t really care less about the people’s marriage. Good for them and all that, but I can’t really get excited about other people’s love lives.

So all the time people plough into making sure this is exactly right and that is perfect is a bit of a waste really, because for me weddings are like Christmases; they all roll into one, and it’s really hard to distinguish which wedding venues were for whose weddings, who served what food and what the weather was like. It gets worse when you have a relative who has had multiple weddings, as is common in my family.

But it doesn’t really matter what I think about the subject. It doesn’t look like I’ll be getting married ever. Oh no! No tying yourself to someone for the REST OF YOUR LIFE, whether you still love them after 20, 40 or even 60 years or not?? Oh no! What a bummer.

I'm so not going to fancy you in ten, or even five years, said Maud.

There’s something about the roads abroad in the holiday destinations I frequented that is just impossible to understand, and natives’ driving is akin to the type I’ve seen from kids on the bumper cars on Clacton Pier.

But the worst part of it, for me, was the blame I faced when it was realised by whoever was driving that I didn’t know the way to the destination any more than they did.

Sorry, had I not mentioned I don’t have an encyclopaedic knowledge of the road systems in Portugal?

I’d sit quivering with an out-dated map that didn’t seem to correlate with any of the roads we had driven down, laden with blame and fear, while whoever was driving demanded to know whether we were on the right road.

A frantic few hours later we’d arrive at the resort stressed and in need of a holiday.

Being the passenger in this situation is definitely worse than driving. When driving, there is everyone to blame but yourself. After all, you’re driving, so there’s not a chance in hell you can look at a map, read directions or think for yourself. It’s all the passenger’s responsibility.

Foreign coaches can be better than car hire

So I never want to do car hire again on holiday. Even though the only other option for transport from the airport is one of those packed coaches which swings precariously around cliff-top lanes for three hours and reverses up tiny side streets whist taking off cars’ wing mirrors.

Money will buy things, bear with me on this oh patronised one, expensive things like flashy cars, designer clothes and even chauffeur hire if that’s your thing, and we all think we want it, don’t we?

Who wouldn’t want more money? Lots of it? No one. Why do we want it? So we can buy stuff, things; better things than we already have that will make us feel better, look better and enhance our lives. But still, inanimate objects nonetheless.

We want more money so that we can enhance ourselves. How we enhance ourselves is subjective and differs from person to person; a boob job here, a nice designer suit there, chauffeur hire or a massive great telly.

And we want to enhance ourselves to attract the best possible mate, one that will think we’re the best because we have all of this good stuff. And we want them to want to have sex with us.

"Wicked, now I'm gonna get loads!" squealed Mildred

It’s not necessarily a bad thing; if we weren’t all striving to get more money than each other the whole of our capitalist society would be totally screwed. In fact, we’d all be so laid back(!) nothing would ever get done. There’d be nothing to aim for. No one would bother to go to work if it wasn’t for sex – there’d be no reason to prove ourselves, earn for ourselves and show other humans how good we are and why they should mate with us.

Maybe that’s why Communism failed; because of sex.

And posh boy Cameron has leapt on the bandwagon in sheer delight, calling for investigations into office bullying at Downing Street and crossing his fingers in hope that something sinister is unturned. Oh how his chubby, ruddy, privileged little face must have lit up when he found out about Pratt’s announcements!

“Despite my leading in the polls, there is still the stubborn undercurrent amongst the great unwashed that insists on supporting bloody Labour,” he spat, stamping his privileged little feet.

“I must, must, must run with this possible slur on Brown’s character and make the most of it, lest another poster campaign of mine featuring my delightful bourgeois face is disastrously spoofed by those scum-of-the-Earth Proles.”

Unfortunately for the spoilt one, the latest poll from YouGov has found that Tory support has slumped massively, and the gap between the Tory Party and the Labour Party is at its smallest since December 2008.

Pratt, a living, breathing example of nominative determinism in action, breached the confidentiality mantra of her charity, and failed to create a backlash against Brown. Whoopsie! Brown’s bounced back and lives to fight another day.