Since I knew that the marathon would like render me immobile, I booked out a couple of days with a view to “working from home”. Top of the list of chores has been working through some of the DVDs I bought from Amazon late at night and never got round to watching.
Lowering myself gingerly onto the sofa this morning, I hit the play button in the expectation of being treated to an episode of Boston Legal. Urgent music played and a message on screen informed me that I would not steal a car. That seemed presumptuous: I had only just met this DVD – how did it know?. I had to admit, however, that it had got it right – I’m not a car thief. Then it told me that I would not steal a purse. Another bullseye. Over the next 20 seconds it ran through a number of other things it was sure I would not steal. I was beginning to find this all very affirming. The range of crimes I would not commit is pretty extensive and hoped it might move on to some of the more entertaining and unusual ones: “You would not commit arson in Her Majesty’s dockyards”, “You would not have sex with the King’s wife”.
Then we fell out. The DVD warned me that downloading films was theft. The DVD was, it appeared, far from convinced that I would not illegally download movies. In fact, it dripped with suspicion.
I have to tell you I felt some discomfort: two minutes out of the box and the DVD was telling me it thought I might well be a criminal. Just in case I had missed the point, up came a couple of powerpoint slides indicating that if I did anything the DVD did not like I could face up 10 years in prison and an unlimited fine. It was actually threatening me. Frankly, I didn’t care for its tone. My one hope of redemption, the slide informed me, was to turn informer and grass up other offenders. I racked my brain for someone I could turn in: had my Mother been up to no good on Youtube? Had the social worker down the road shown a DVD at the youth club when it was only licensed for home use? If I could just find someone to take the rap and become the Federation against Copyright Theft’s bitch, I could keep myself out of jail.
Begrudgingly, the DVD let the subject drop and allowed me to watch an episode. The moment the episode finished, the DVD got right back into hectoring me. It immediately flashed up a lengthy message which told me that, amongst other things, that I was not permitted to lend the DVD to anyone and that if I had it in mind to take off to an oilrig and put the DVD on in the ready room I would be in very serious trouble. Then it told me the same thing in Norwegian, Swedish, Danish, Finnish and a host of other languages, refusing to let jump to the next episode. Worse was yet to come. A blacksmith appeared, heating up a cattle brand. I am not sure why a blacksmith would have a cattle brand. As it turned out he wasn’t a blacksmith at all but a pirate – albeit one dressed up as a blacksmith. The pirate was apparently very angry with me and had broken off from boarding merchantmen, splicing the mainbrace and dancing jigs to track me down. He advanced towards me, his eyes burning demonically. The DVD urged me not to let the pirate brand me with his mark. I certainly didn’t fancy getting branded but the DVD was short on specific advice as to how to avoid this fate.
The whole thing left me sweating and unnerved. I am plainly not to be trusted and have resolved not watch another DVD until the Federation against Copryright Theft can send someone to sit with me as I watch. Without that reassuring presence I could be one inadvertent slip away from having a blacksmithing pirate burn my bottom as I am thrown into a van and taken off to Wormwood Scrubs. Watching DVDs is just too risky for the likes of me.