About this blog

This blog is no longer active. Follow me on Twitter @SirenaBergman to keep up-to-date with my comings, goings and writings. I am currently working at The News Hub. To contact me for work purposes please email sirena@the-newshub.com. For personal queries email sirenabergman@gmail.com.

David Cameron: a pasty short of a picnic.

As soon as a political discussion turns to a “well they’re all just stupid aren’t they?” type of remark, I know I’ve won. The consensus that all politicians are sleazy liars, trying to pocket votes no matter what it takes, offends me.

I truly believe that anyone who goes into politics – no matter what party they’re favouring – must do so because they care about the society they live in and want to make a difference, even though in some cases they do get it terribly wrong.

I also like to believe that the political branch of ‘The Media’ owes it to the public to report accurately and truthfully regarding the important issues surrounding current affairs. Let me just reiterate that: the IMPORTANT issues.

Sadly, every so often my idealism is shattered into a million little pieces when something silly, insignificant and entirely irrelevant in the grand scheme of things is suddenly launched onto the front pages of tabloids and broadsheets alike and the public becomes convinced that they are consuming “political news”.



The pasty debacle has been the talk of the tweeters for days as the prime minister found himself in a hole and just kept digging. Satirists and commentators were preparing to mock his alleged passion for the Cornish pasty even before it transpired that the location at which he “recently” bought his last pasty had actually closed down in 2007, making his love for this British snack a very civilised twice-a-decade habit.

So now we’re being asked to ignore policies and ideologies in favour of acting skills as the main issue in politics is who does and who doesn’t “enjoy a hot pasty”, with Ed Miliband feigning drools over (hot, we hope) sausage rolls shortly after Cameron’s faux pas.

Whilst the white men in suits are busy attempting to out-pasty each other (West Cornwall Pasty Company is for posh boys – the Labour kids are slumming it in Greggs), there are real political issues plaguing the country and waiting to get solved.

If this kind of nonsense leaves you feeling as disenchanted as it does me, I’ll let you in on my antidote this week. A radio interview with the new leader of Plaid Cymru, Leanne Wood, made me think that perhaps there is the odd politician out there who is more interested in the issues than how much she can mimic a clichéd working class lifestyle.

English party leaders could definitely stand to take a page out of the Wood book. From what I’ve been reading lately she seems like a defender of true socialism, an eco-minded strong woman who campaigns for equality but doesn’t use her gender as a weapon.

The intricacies of her policies may have to be discussed in a different post, but let me leave you with an anecdote in an attempt to lift the political morale: In 2004, Leanne Wood made a footnote in the history books when she was ordered out of the chamber during an assembly for referring to the Queen as ‘Mrs Windsor’. She further refused to withdraw her comment, saying that she intended no disrespect. "I don't recognise the Queen, I called her that because that's her name." A woman after my own heart.

The curious tale of the three little pigs, the big bad wolf, and the nature of modern journalism

The Guardian's '3 Pigs' has become a viral sensation. No one worth their weight in tweets could have missed it and Facebook is sharing the link like there's no tomorrow.

What is it about this video that we find so poignant? In just 121 seconds this video manages to touch on almost every issue surrounding British culture at the moment. The transformation of the way news is delivered and spread, the public's distrust in traditional news mediums, the nation's desperate desire to blame the government for the tragedies in society and, of course, our insatiable desire for controversy.



This classic fable has been turned into a media whirlwind as people from all around the country post 140 character opinions on a complex story and spark civil disobedience – and ultimately riots - calling for those who are truly responsible to take the blame for the desperate actions of those who have been left with nowhere to turn.

The Guardian made the video as part of a campaign promoting a partnership between the traditional media outlets and the citizen journalists and bloggers who contribute to the new form of interactive journalism. This is a concept which has always been embraced by the Guardian, whilst other media organisations seek to limit the interactivity of their publications with paywalls and disparities between the print and online versions.

The way in which this video has spread is better evidence than the content of the video itself to support the Guardian's vision. Journalism is no longer about consumers and publications, it is about an interaction and link between people from all parts of the world to create a free and uncensored press.

The three little pigs may not have benefited from a suspicious blogger investigating further into the case, and neither did the politicians who had to answer to the public outcry, but an open journalistic environment has one beneficiary – democracy. This is why I want to be a journalist, and it is why I couldn't think of a better time to do so.

My disappearance from the internet world explained

Much to the disappointment of some of the men in my life, any interest in dystopian literature was eroded after I came to the conclusion that no one will ever do it better than Orwell and watching otherwise talented writers try is a somewhat painful experience.

My relationship with technology is ambiguous, to say the least. “It's complicated”, as Facebook would have me characterise it. The desperate desire to be a part of every new advance is crippling, both financially and in terms of the time I've wasted creating blogs, profiles, accounts, downloading apps and reading tutorials.

But the connection which individuals can have with the rest of the world in the 21st Century is unparalleled by anything imaginable in a pre-dot.com age. Unfortunately, the pitfalls of this tangled web of so-called interaction have become apparent to me of late.

I was told that the way to get “into” journalism was simple(ish): post interesting links on Twitter, get as many followers as possible on your blog and make sure that when you turn up to networking events people recognise your name. I did all of these things and it got me nowhere.

Two disturbing events led me to lose interest in using the internet to mix the personal with the professional. The first seed of doubt was planted in my mind when I was turned down from a job based on some of the more opinionated political views expressed on my blog. More specifically:

“...despite being extremely impressed by your writing skills and experience, after reading some of your submitted samples we feel that your style and topics of choice are not in line with those of the ideal candidate.”

Not long after this confusing rejection, I acquired a Twitter-stalker. I don't mean one of those annoying users who incessantly @reply to everything you say in the hope of gaining more followers. I'm referring to someone who scrolled so far through every piece of information publicly available about me that he knew the in-depth details of my personal life and eventually turned up at my place of work demanding I speak to him.

Clearly there are safeguards which I ignored. Perhaps I should have remembered the words spoken to me by my mother when I created my first MSN account at 13: “What's the point? Surely you can talk to your friends in person and I don't see why you'd want to talk to strangers. Isn't it dangerous?”

The success of Twitter has been in completely eroding the seedy connotations of chat-rooms of the late 1990s. People speak of their 'Twitter-friends' without embarrassment as people whom they have a true relationship with, despite living on opposite sides of the world and it's not strange or desperate, it's enlightened and tech-savvy.

Well, I got scared and yes, perhaps slightly paranoid. So I stopped posting on social networking sites and blogs and deleted most of the apps on my phone. I convinced myself that I was gaining nothing from it and that instant gratification was not worth the potential downfalls. I was wrong.

I am the kind of person that this medium was created for. Somewhat socially introvert yet with a passion for voicing controversial opinions and being able to discuss them intelligently. If this costs me a job or two in the future, I guess I can live with that – but I will definitely be deleting all GPS-based networks.

This is me back, people. Rejoice or recoil, at your will.

Heightened passions on Twitter - in defence of @pennyred

Giving away as little detail as possible “otherwise I'd have to kill you”, columnist and socialist activist Laurie Penny posted a job opportunity on her blog for a researcher to help her with her upcoming book.

By tweeting a link to the job description, in what may seem like an inoffensive use of social media to promote an offer, she sparked the fuse of right-wing blogger Guido Fawkes, who pounced at the chance to launch a vicious attack on the journalist.

A combined Twitter following of over 30,000 users witnessed yesterday's contemptuous exchange, which prompted emotional responses from supporters on either side.

And although I have no doubt that this made for an interesting Tuesday morning for the thousands of people sitting in front of a screen retweeting the spat, no one appears to have realised that had this occurred as a shouting match in an office, not only would they both have lost their jobs, but Fawkes would have been quite rightly villainised and reprimanded for his despicable lack of respect for a fellow journalist.

Having been a victim of cyberbullying myself, I am quick to condemn the actions of anyone cowardly enough to frantically bash away at a keyboard with the sole purpose of demonising someone else, which Fawkes undoubtedly did in his blog post 'Sexist Laurie Penny Exploits Unemployed, Pays Staff Below Minimum Wage', claiming that it was hypocritical of her to offer £500 for a month's part-time work.

What Fawkes seems to ignore is that the reality of the journalism and publishing industries make it as easy – if not easier – to fill such a position calling it an 'unpaid internship'. Had Penny not “passionately disapproved” of such tactics, she could have saved herself the money and got the work done anyway.

Putting aside the merits of the argument – unarguably initiated by Fawkes – the reaction on Twitter was perfectly encapsulated by media lawyer David Allan Green, who posted: “*munches popcorn whilst watching @guidofawkes and @PennyRed *”.

Despite Penny's relentless defence of her arguments, the insults kept coming, both on her Twitter stream and her blog.

The government defines bullying as including “abuse, physical or verbal violence, humiliation and undermining someone's confidence”. Yet there is no mention of cyberbullying other than in relation to teenagers.

Whether Penny felt humiliated or victimised is besides the point. A personal attack on the character of a person in front of tens of thousands of people is not an attitude that would be tolerated in any other walk of life.

Social networks are not soap operas with scripts of 140 characters, but interactions of real people in real time. Tragically, our society seems to have quickly become conditioned to see usernames as anonymous entities with no feelings or personalities behind them.

Luckily, Penny seemed unperturbed by the exchange. Let's just hope that next time Fawkes wakes up in in a particularly venomous mood, he doesn't choose to pick on someone with less of a thick-skin. Then again, maybe that's the only way we will ever wake up to the pitfalls of our abhorrent lack of sensitivity when it comes to online communication.

Loud and Clear

Dear Readers,

For no particular reason, my blog has now been subtly rebranded from Today Through My Eyes, to Loud and Clear: Today Through My Eyes.

It came to me in a flash of “inspiration” during my last week of an unpaid internship at the New Statesman which I have worked day and night (well, maybe not day and night, but definitely all trading hours) at a shoe shop in order to afford.

You will be pleased to know that my talents for envelope stuffing and transcription have been greatly nurtured, so if anyone is in the position to pay actual money for such services please do contact me immediately. Alternatively, if you would like to donate to charity, my bank details are available on request.

Much love,

Sirena xxx

Pick a future. Now!

When I was fourteen I wanted to be an astronaut. Actually, I wanted to be a journalist pretty much since I learnt to spell my name but that could have been plausible. I wouldn't be at all surprised if I walked into a class full of 14-year-olds and the girls said they wanted to be Lady GaGa and the boys Christiano Ronaldo.

As much as I would discourage such role models, aiming high and pursuing dreams – as far-fetched as they may be – is a crucial part of being young.

By the time you're 16 (and it wasn't that long ago for me), the pressure is mounting. Every day is a whirlwind of responsibilities, commitments and decisions you don't want to have to make.

This is why I have always opposed the UK education system which forces teenagers to decide st such as age, ruled often by hormones, to pick a path and stick to it for the rest of their lives.

Former education secretary Estelle Morris suggests that if students take their GCSEs at the age of 14 rather than 16 they will stay in school longer as they will have four years, rather than just two, in which to specialise.

I was never forced to make that choice, because I went to school in Spain, where you take around seven A Levels, four of which are obligatory subjects. For your other three you can choose between four groups of modules: arts, science, social sciences or humanities. Like most other people with the math skills of a linguist, I opted for humanities.

At the time, the idea of studying Ancient Greek, Latin and Art History seemed about as interesting to me as spending my Saturday nights writing political commentary. But I was sixteen, what did I know?

In retrospect, the Spanish system – despite the bitterness I felt at having to study subjects I hadn't the least interest in at the time - has stood me in good stead, giving me a thorough grounding in core subjects which I may never have chosen.

The idea that at sixteen you are prepared to narrow your choices down and completely limit your future is preposterous. But the idea of doing it at fourteen is a joke.

School is not supposed to be fun. It’s hard work and often tear-jerkingly dull, but once we’ve experienced what it means to study all different types of subjects, we will be ready to make a decision about a university degree based on a true understanding of our own talents and weaknesses - rather than a teenage whim.

Come back, @stephenfry! We can be the antichrist together

The Twitter world is buzzing. Literally. If there were a bright blue, scarily interactive planet gracing our solar system, it would have gone from a steady spin with a few minor bumps (Trafigura, Cheryl Cole, election debates, etc.) to a full-blown, gravity defying bounce that hasn't stopped for days.

Why? The king is dead. Well, maybe not dead, just 'no longer active'. Twitter is braced for a coup, but what was it that prompted Stephen Fry's sudden abandonment of his favourite form of mass communication?

Well tweetie pies, we did it. Yes, you and I, through our constant following, our shameless @replies and our traitorous re-tweets of a certain broadsheet which in a surprising Sun-like manner has taken immense pleasure in slating the reputation of the man it once heralded as our very own “national treasure”.

The backlash follows an article by the Guardian focussing on a couple of quotes lifted from an interview Fry gave Attitude magazine. Not only were they evidently taken completely out of context, but the headline was cleverly phrased to create this social media frenzy. In an effort to justify its allegation that Fry had “shocked feminists”, the Guardian quoted two women, whose condemnation of the comments was lukewarm at best.

Fry's penultimate tweet “So some fucking paper misquotes a humorous interview I gave, which itself misquoted me and now I'm the Antichrist. I give up”, is a clear indication of how frustrating these situations can be.

I recently wrote a comment piece, clearly marked as comment by a giant title on the top of the page, a cartoon byline and a first-person narrative that reads like an unsubbed diary entry. It is perhaps unfortunate that my view on what constitutes “writing to be proud of” differs drastically from that of the editor-in-chief of this minor publication. However, I complied and wrote a lovely little tongue-in-cheek rant entitled “Why I hate blondes” (please find full piece copied below).

I have now uninstalled the Facebook app on my phone because the endless flashing of messages from people telling me what a terrible person I am was overwhelming. My personal favourite has to be: “vrey professional!! well done!!! im not surprised that all your boyfrends ran away from you, smart ass, to stupid blondes! Hahahahaha)))))” [sic], followed up that evening by: “have nothing to answer? u re a shit journalist then!”.

I thought my article was pointless and silly, but this young lady just proved me wrong. The editor had clearly pinpointed our readers to perfection.

I think a thick skin is the first requirement for a career in journalism. Offending people and receiving copious insults in every form of communication possible has to be completely irrelevant to your work. Stephen Fry has been doing this for a lot longer than I have though, and it looks like he's had enough.

His final “bye, bye” tweet has caused the mourning of millions, but he cannot stay away for long. Just as I will continue to write articles madmouthing any section of society I deem deserving of my scathing words, Stephen Fry will be tweeting again by Friday. I guarantee it.


WHY I HATE BLONDES
[as published in the River, 30th Obctober 2010]

I hate blonde girls. Generally, I hate them in all shapes and sizes. Tall, short, fat, thin, mediumly chubby. Dirty blonde, platinum blonde, strawberry blonde, or my personal favourite hate toy: the natural blonde.

There are studies suggesting that blondes are a mutation, and men find them attractive because they are less common than brunettes (whoever came up with that had obviously never been to Oceana on a Wednesday night). Other, more Freudian theories conclude that men are born natural paedophiles and get turned on by traits which remind them of small children.

Either way, they piss me off. Especially the self-righteous ones. You know what I’m talking about, the ones that drown their brain cells in peroxide and then bang on about “stereotyping”. The best laugh I’ve had all week was when a facebook friend posted a status update about the woes of the blonde. And mis-spelled “cliché”.

I could go into long and personal detail about my experiences with blondes. There were the ones that the teachers always liked better in primary school, the popular ones who laughed at my outfits in college, the blue-eyed skinny ones that stole my boyfriends repeatedly... the list goes on.

But the most questionable I think is the “I’m-blonde-and-gorgeous-and-I-want-everyone-to-see-me-naked-but-don’t-judge-me” ones. Lingerie model Rachel Rigby-Jones proudly told the River that she is happy to have sugar daddies who will provide her with the princess lifestyle she has always wanted. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry,

A degree in Business, a pilot’s licence and another degree on the way and her best shot at a career is posing naked on the cover of one of the least classy of lads’ mags. It almost makes me want to burn my bras and worship the ground Germaine Greer walks on. Almost.

I am not a feminist. I’ll prove that by not even mentioning the women’s rights movement, the right to vote, the media sexualisation of women, or the rising numbers of female eating disorders in the UK. But if the best we can do for male attention is dye ourselves into some resemblance of either a pre-historic mutation or a snotty toddler, perhaps it’s the boys that need to re-think their priorities.

You know what? I don’t even think I want to justify it further. I just hate blondes – no explanation needed. Burn them at the stake, I say. Who’s with me?

Browne Report - not all bleak

As a student who will graduate at 21 years old with a personal debt of over £30,000, I would fully encourage the abolition of tuition fees. Then again, I would also encourage philanthropists to offer me their fortunes and allow me to spend my life writing ranting blogs and baking misshapen brownies.

I was outraged when I heard that there was a chance tuition fees would be raised and I still fail to see a way in which this would benefit anyone other than the wealthy. But neither can I put my full weight behind a blanket criticism of all the recommendations set out in the Browne report.

The introduction of tuition fees in 1998 the was hailed as New Labour at its worst, favouring the middle and upper classes to the complete detriment of many underprivileged students who would not be able to front the costs, even with the help of low-interest student loans. The argument that it would discourage the less motivated was a direct contradiction of the 50 per cent target, which allowed university places to be filled by students with lower academic abilities.

An increase in fees would be bad enough, but uncapping them so that universities have carte blanche to charge whatever they want, for whatever they want leads to a de facto privatisation of the higher education sector (or industry, if you will).

Similarly, the idea of government funding for departments deemed by Whitehall bureaucrats to be the most worthy laughs in the face of vocational teaching, and courses in Arts and Humanities becoming more expensive than the sciences will cause creative industries to become even more elitist.

Yet in a slightly schizophrenic turn, there are elements of the Browne report which, if applied, would mean a more progressive system of university funding.

No up-front fees, and a repayment threshold of a £21,000 salary - compared to the current, unrealistic £15,000 - will be beneficial to less well-off students. And Vince Cable's suggestion of a tiered interest system will avoid those with the financial means (or the parents with financial means) to cover the costs from getting away with not contributing their share to the national money bank.

Part-time students would also benefit from the ideas set out in the report. It seems absurd that there is currently no help available to those having to undertake their studies whilst working, as they are often more in need of financial aid than eighteen-year-olds with parental support.

It is unfortunate that the more positive aspects of this reform have been overshadowed by the main issue of uncapping tuition fees. The Liberal Democrats have now set themselves up for a catastrophic loss of support amongst young people - a demographic often overlooked by the main parties whilst campaigning. More worryingly, passing legislation so detrimental to students will likely exacerbate the loss in confidence and trust in politics amongst my generation.

I have often made my position on higher education funding clear. Lowering university places to allow entry to only the exceptional would allow for full funding of those students who will bring something positive to our society and do not have the financial means to subsidise themselves for three years. This way, we would have dedicated, well-educated graduates without normalising debt for an entire generation of mediocre students who consider a university education to be a rite of passage, rather than a privilege you earn through years of hard work.

Internships from hell: My experience

I thought long and hard about this blog post, just as I tweeted not a word about my predicament and remained open-minded and optimistic to the point of dishonesty with most people who asked how my internship at the Independent on Sunday was going. And I do realise that throwing into the blogosphere my contempt for a national paper will not do much for my future job prospects.

I can envisage my more diplomatic lecturers reading this post and shaking their heads: “So much promise,” they might be thinking. But if I can warn future interns of what awaits them, or even give a little bit of insight to the people who caused my distress, then it's worth sacrificing the very slim chance that one day the IoS may have come knocking on my door, begging me to work for them.

I should mention to all those aspiring journalists who are gasping in envy at the fact that I got myself an internship at a national paper that the extent of the screening process was calling up the right person and saying: “Hi, I'm a journalism student, I was wondering if it would be possible to do work experience with you during the summer.” And without further ado I was offered a month's unpaid work placement, which I had to politely decline in favour of a more reasonable two weeks, although even this almost bankrupted me, my only salvation being that national papers don't expect anyone in before 10:30 am so I saved myself the peak-time train fares.

I must say that in my limited experience I have found an inverse correlation between how easy it is to get an internship and how much you enjoy it. My two weeks last summer at the Brighton Argus, which had a similar system of giving away free work to anyone who asked, was enough to put me off the local and regional news industry for life. At the more selective Press Gazette I felt I learnt more than in an entire year of university; the Guardian, which demands CVs, clippings, and application forms gained me two published articles and much-appreciated free coffee; and I have high hopes for the New Statesman, which brought me in for an interview for their coveted internship.

But back to the Sindy. Day after day, in my usual pushy way I would ask for research, transcriptions, stories, tea-making or any other task that the news desk might need fulfilling. I was met with disdain and complete disinterest.

Although at first I assumed that it was a personal, after the first few days it became apparent that of the vast number of interns the IoS takes on, the majority spend their time browsing the web for ideas to pitch and subsequently get rejected without so much as a reasonable explanation. I say the majority because there were exceptions. Namely the Cambridge student who was interning for three months and the Oxford student whose parents got her work experience at the IoS at every available university holiday. They seemed to get quite a few bylines.

Not that there wasn't a highlight to my ordeal: I was sent off to a Quaker house (at my own expense, of course) to do vox pops with very friendly phtographer. Also, the cafeteria soup is cheaper than the Guardian's and the bread is nicer. But I wouldn't want to be inaccurate and infer that we were never given any work; on a couple of occasions someone would come over at 6pm with some 'urgent' research, and when explained two hours later that the information was unobtainable, it turns out that they were pretty sure that was the case already.

This is just my story of two very unpleasant weeks, but every day hundreds of aspiring journalists are put through terrible hardship in order to acquire this kind of valuable “experience”. And for what? In the hope that in the future they will be able to break into the industry. Fingers crossed they don't end up entirely disenchanted before their big break. Fingers crossed they don't pick the Independent on Sunday.

Has someone missed the point of Facebook?

Government documents, political articles, final dissertations, legal arguments... even blog posts are sort of thing that I expect people to take seriously. But Facebook groups? You must be joking. Oh wait, you probably are!

Back in the days when I was still allowed to ‘become a fan’ of things (much more non-committal than ‘liking’ them, I find) I was a self-proclaimed fan of serial killers, eugenics, coco pops, Beverly Hills 90210 and ‘if the world ends in 2012 I won’t have to pay back my student loan’. Does this make me psychotic, schizophrenic or a cereal-eater? No. It means that I understand that sites such as Facebook are not to be taken seriously.

Those of you well versed in the art of social networking will also recognise the tongue-in-cheek aspect of Facebook compared to rivals such as Twitter, or even Myspace in its hayday. Facebook is private; members can handpick who they want as contacts and edit that list with a couple of clicks. In this familiar and enclosed environment, why shouldn’t we be allowed to make jokes with our ‘friends’, regardless of how distasteful others may find our sense of humour?

Cameron’s idea that he could scream out into Facebook oblivion about where spending cuts should lie is nothing short of hilarious, prompting the most popular response from this newly-engaged public to be along the lines of ‘if you can’t work it out yourself then get out of government’. I wonder if Facebook founder Mark Zuckerburg is a closet communist and it was all a set-up.

As if this hadn’t made me sceptical enough of Cameron’s so-called ‘down with the kids’ attitude to social networking, along came the whole ‘R.I.P. Raoul Moat You Legend’ Facebook group affair, which with a little help from his mates at the Daily Mail, our Prime Minister managed to blow so out of proportion to that the poor woman who set it up has had her face plastered all over the press for her ‘sick joke’. I suppose it doesn’t help that she’s a single mother, either.

I recognise the insensitivity the group displayed to the bereaved families of Moat’s victims. I also accept that this group was not only politically incorrect but also downright offensive. However, the idea that a government should be able to remove anything from the public domain based on that set of criteria is not only a travesty to the ideal of free speech but also a prelude to an era of censorship which will see many comedians, writers, musicians and journalists unemployed in the near future.

I rarely update my Facebook status with anything that is not drowned in layers of irony, sarcasm and obscure and useless references that few people pick up on. As far as I’m concerned this is all part of the point. If I were only allowed to write the sort of things that would be considered acceptable by politicians and right-wing media outlets I would delete my account in an instant. And surely that’s not what David Cameron wants.

Save your soul

I didn't have the privilege of walking past an O2 shop yesterday morning to see dozens of people queuing around the block, rubbing their clammy hands together in anticipation of the iPhone 4. I have been told, however, that it was not a pleasant sight.

Why was I happily surrounded by my Toshiba netbook and ancient Motorola flip-phone as opposed to standing in Oxford Street drooling over Apple's latest gift to humanity, Stephen Fry might ask.

First of all, I don't have a spare £299 lying around to spend on a handset. Neither am I about to take out a mortgage for the sake of owning a better phone, unlike all those extremely unlucky people who recently signed a 24 month contract for an iPhone 3G and are now waving useless Apps in front of fashionably bored iPhone 4 owners.

But to all those of you in the tech-savvy world, with a burning desperation to immediately purchase the latest smartphones, I would put to you that Apple is not the way forward. The knowledge and interest that I lack in the world of technology I make up for in the world of chocolate and I must say that no matter how good a Kit-Kat may taste, I have not bought one in years.

Apple are the Nestle of technology. They're everywhere and they taste good but what about the not-so-shiny shenanigans that go on behind the scenes to create your beloved machines?

Apple outsources the majority of the hardware production to Foxconn, whose factory in China has caused so many suicides that the company sent out a contract to all employees to end its liability should anyone die on site. The media outcry forced Foxconn to withdraw this idea, but the working environment is still a breeding ground for isolation and depression.

Employees told the BBC that the factory that is in charge of creating iPhones and iPads is run like an army training centre. Uniformed employees work at least two hours of overtime each day, and 100 hours of overtime a month are the norm. The pay is the equivalent to around £200 a month and the intensity and pressure put on meeting targets is so extreme that in the run-up to the iPad launch the factory lost 50,000 workers every month because they could not keep up with the expectations.

And if on balance you still feel that the need to buy into Apple's cult-like world, what will you get for your loyalty? Although the smug arrogance of Apple's attempts to ostracise its users from any other company may not seem like a problem at the moment, it will do soon.

Microsoft, Adobe, Google... where will it end? Well, it seems like it's only just begun. Steve Jobs has launched a war against all the big names in the industry. But why will people continue to buy in to a brand that is soon going to be ganged up on by all the other major players who have been shunned and disparaged? The answer is that they won't.

If there were no other alternative out there, I would understand consumers putting to one side their moral dilemmas and pragmatism of the future. But there are so many other smartphones that are just as functional, yet don't require sacrificing your soul.

I mean really, Google's latest operating system is called Android Cupcake. What could be better than that?

Is the end of true debate in sight?

I remember all the arguments against televised debates during the election. I also remember thinking that people who opposed them probably didn't have an understanding of what 'democracy' actually means.

The idea of giving everyone as much information as possible and allowing them to make up their own mind is what I believe makes a society truly democratic. Even if you don't agree with their decisions or their criteria they've used to take them.

Yesterday evening the Free Society hosted the penultimate in a series of four of debates on the theme of libertarianism and hyper-regulation.

Always a fan of a political event, I attended enthusiastically - as much for the hope of some engaging conversation as for the promise of free wine. I was not disappointed on either count. The speakers, who included Isabella Sankey, from Liberty, Philip Johnston, assistant editor of the Daily Telegraph and Mark Wallace of the Taxpayers Alliance, were articulate and impassioned. They even managed to momentarily sway me towards a more libertarian stance.

Although I thoroughly enjoyed the evening as a political campaign meeting, I hesitate to call it a debate. There was no premise upon which the panel was set to build a case, no contrasting views and no opposing comments from the audience.

It seems somewhat ironic that a group which claims to promote civil rights would not attempt to make all possible arguments available, allowing the audience to arrive at its own conclusion. Instead, the organisers were guilty of the exact attitude they were recriminating the government for: a paternalistic "we know best" outlook on the rest of the population.

Hopefully it does not become the norm to put on debates for the sake of propaganda as opposed to democracy and people continue to be outraged at the thought that they are being told what to think.

We live in public

I really would love to begin this post with a Brave New World quote or some borrowed Orwellian imagery. But the concept of comparing technologically-ruled 21st century life to the police state described in dystopian literature has by now been cliched into oblivion.

However, last night's Channel 4 broadcast of We Live In Public, Ondi Timoner's Sundance-winning documentary about the internet pioneer Josh Harris, left me tweeting slightly more reticently than before.

The image painted of Harris is that of a man emerged in the world of technology. He talks about spending so long in front of the television as a child that he was brought up more by Sherwood Schwartz, creator of Gilligan's Island, than by his own parents.

As an adult, Harris developed an alter-ego to mask his social difficulties. This resulted in him attending business meetings and public appearances dressed and acting as a child-like clown named Luvvy.

In 1999, after various online ventures had made him a fortune in the dot.com boom, he embarked on a new project, this time tainted by his sadistic tendencies. More than 100 volunteers were locked into a bunker wearing matching uniforms, while they were filmed eating, sleeping, showering, having sex and using the toilet, as well as being subjected to emotionally tortuous interrogations.

These were deeply disturbing scenes to watch. The volunteers had been stripped of all dignity and individuality, monitored and experimented with like lab rats by a millionaire visionary with a God complex.

When this project came to an end (in January 2001 the NYPD raided the terrarium), Harris decided it was time to put himself under the same scrutiny and he and his girlfriend moved into an apartment rigged with motion-sensitive cameras and all-hearing microphones. Their life would be broadcast online and viewers would be able to chat to each other, as well as to the couple.

Watching their relationship deteriorate further and further before reaching intolerable levels of dysfunction is a harrowing experience. You feel the urge to shout at them to get out of the game and live real life, where they might have a chance at fixing what seemed like a loving relationship at the beginning. But they don't, as ultimately the experiment was more important and Tania walks out.

I am aware that many celebrity couples have since decided to document their lives for the benefit or E4 and MTV viewers. But I always assumed that this was for the purpose of furthering their careers, or at the very least for the cash. Then again, what about those millions of people whose Facebook relationship status goes from 'in a relationship' to 'single' to 'it's complicated' every few weeks? What are they getting out of making their relationship a public affair?

What about tweeting that you've just had a fight with your girlfriend or blogging about your husband's affair? I wonder how many relationships around the world are being put under unnecessary pressure by our obsession with making our lives a free-for-all.

These matters have, of course, been pondered upon by much more authoritative voices than my own, and I doubt I would have anything new to add to the debate. I would encourage a bit of self-reflection, though. Watching the documentary made me realise how disturbing I find situations which I purposely put myself in on a daily basis.

I'm not suggesting that anyone quits their social networks, blogs, photo albums, youtube videos, podcasts or chatrooms. But perhaps we would al benefit from distancing our online actions to those of real life. Otherwise we may make the step from living in public to barely living at all.

The reason behind my blogging hiatus

I find it difficult to describe myself in tech-terms. I am neither a geek, nor a denier, nor an enthusiast, nor a target consumer. I am not ignorant yet I am not particularly knowledgeable either.

In fact, tech-wise, I am probably the equivalent of those kids in school that would hang out with the cool girls one day, have lunch with the nerds the next, then sway indifferently to the goth section only to turn up the next day in preppy chic.

The upshot of such an insipid – sorry, I mean versatile – attitude is that you have a lot of people to invite to a birthday party but no one's shoulder to cry on.

This is what I have been made startlingly aware of in the last few months, as my happily functional little world of tech-indecisiveness began to unravel.

I was emerged in journalism research essay-writing when the first in a string of disasters took place. My main laptop became spyware-infested and therefore, pretty much useless. It is now sulking in the corner of my bedroom waiting to be reformatted by someone who knows what reformatting means.

But not to worry, there's always Kafka, my pretentiously-named, somewhat incompetent but nonetheless trustworthy little netbook.

Oh wait. Now the wireless connection in my house has stopped working .

Phew, I really need a brake from all these technology failures, I think I'll go for a walk. Halfway down the street it turns out my iPod has run out of battery, and stubbornly refuses to charge back up.

And, to ice that lovely batch of cyanide-infused cupcakes that are overtaking my tech-world, my blog was hacked, making me reticent to hand over business cards recently. All I could picture was Alan Rusbridger deciding to give me a chance to impress him and being met with a blog full of links to “Buy Viagra! Buy Rolex! CHEAP!”.

So, dedicated reader, I do appreciate your patience and beg for your understanding. My four-week disappearance was not due to neglect, but to matters out of my control. Today Though My Eyes is now back to its traditional weekly post and Kafka seems to be holding on to the internet for dear life. Still no word on reformatting the naughty one, but seriously, how many computers do I really need?

I'm thinking maybe a Gok Wan-type attitude towards technology might increase my chances of having one trustworthy piece of hardware that will do it all. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I became Steve Jobs's dream come true.

A night to not remember

It was a chilling moment last night when the country gathered around TVs, radios, laptops and iPhones to see the first exit polls suggest that the Liberal Democrats might not blow away the two stagnated, backwards-thinking and barely distinguishable old parties, after all.

April 16 saw Lib Dem supporters enjoy unadulterated euphoria as a few optimistic tweets and yellow-dominated polls after the first televised debate marked the beginning – and the beginning of the end – of the Lib Dems’ very real chance of securing power.

“What happened?” is the thought flashing through the minds of stunned progressives, as the party that just a few days ago was set to win a record number of seats ended up in much the same position they started from.

It was probably naive of me to think that voters who switched to Lib Dem because Mr Clegg looks better on TV would stick with us until polling day. The general air of mourning was perhaps as much for the deflating results as for our now-bruised idealism which let us dare hope that 2010 would be the year to make a real difference to the country.

Britain has spent decades caught between the desperate clutches of a Labour party that has abandoned its grassroot socialist ideals, and a Conservative party whose reactionary core is disguised by a brazen re-enactment of 1997 Blairism.

The only plausible explanation for the Lib Dems’ failure to change this is that British voters got last-minute cold feet.

Pleas of the public to vote tactically and endless discussions about our flawed electoral system would have confused even the most knowledgeable of voters. Is it really surprising that the general consensus was “Oh, well, Cameron will do”?

To all those people I would say no, David Cameron will not do. And neither will Gordon Brown. Immigration, education, environment, NHS, Trident, income tax, inheritance tax, national insurance tax, VAT -- the list of past disasters is endless and I have no doubt that a Tory government will make failure after failure of half-hearted attempts at fixing them.

Perhaps it’s OK for some people to hang around for another three, four or five years, hoping for the best, but something tells me that won’t be necessary. Watch this space: I predict a revolution. But then I predicted a Liberal Democrat landslide so maybe I’m not the one to ask.

One hour left. Are we making a difference?

I got up this morning, put on my #iagreewithnick badge and went off to vote for Caroline Lucas. In real terms.

Tactical? Foolish? Outrageously disloyal? Probably insignificant, realistically, although I do love to preach the power of every vote to anyone who will listen.

Facebook is telling me that way too many of my “friends” have decided to stay home and press F5 time and time again as opposed to walking to their nearest polling station and actually doing something about everything that’s wrong with this country.

I think that the best idea was undoubtedly for me to spend the night in a university newsroom playing journalist with a bunch of idealistic students that believe we’re doing a worthy deed for society and democracy.

Those of you who know me will not be surprised to read that I am writing comment.

I’ve been told I must have opinions. This is not a tough task for me. But I want to read yours! Tweet @sirenabergman or comment below to help me out. The more opinionated the better. Thank you!

Brighton Pavillion: how do I vote?

Getting me to miss a law lecture is a tough job, but I have to say that my excitement over an hour and a half of politics, journalism and debate won over my conscience on Tuesday afternoon.

The Independent Live debates began in Brighton Pavillion, where those of us lucky enough to get a ticket drank free wine, ate free canapés and then proceeded to get a rare chance to put our candidates in the spotlight.

The panel - which included representatives from the Conservative, Labour, Lib Dem and Green parties - had the chance to give a brief opening statement each and then proceeded to answer questions about education, Afghanistan, nuclear weapons, banks and immigration, amongst other things.

But did this actually sway anyone’s vote? Well, although traditionally averse to such per personality-driven campaigns, it seems the British public is getting a taste for these events and I would not be surprised if more than one floating voter left last night with a clear idea of who the MP should be.

Here is my take on the candidates.

Conservative – Charlotte Vere.
Away from home turf, the Tories perhaps felt their presence was almost a token gesture on behalf of the Independent. A few cynical laughs and ‘boo’s are the most memorable element of Charlotte’s contribution, and she was nowhere to be seen after the debate, when the rest of the panel was mingling with he audience and answering more specific questions.

Lib Dem – Bernadette Millam
Unfortunately for all the Lib Dem voters in Brighton, Bernadette put on a sorry show on Tuesday, barely identifying a single policy, fumbling over notes and generally appearing uncharismatic and dour. Of course few politicians would end up gleaming after ninety minutes trying to take on Caroline Lucas, but even Charlotte held her own better than our Lib Dem candidate. The ultimate mistake came when a member of the audience asked about the situation of the working class. Her answer was “I've been out cleaning lavatories to put food on the table”. Yes, lovely, but what are your POLICIES?!

Green Party – Caroline Lucas
Member of the European Parliament, Party Leader, and soon to be the first Green Party MP? She put the other speakers to shame by eloquently and officially setting forth important party policies - such as the introduction of a living wage, a reformed electoral system and a new generation of council housing. As far as I can see the competition is between her and Labour candidate Nancy Platts and it looks like the seat is going to everyone's favourite tree-hugger!

Labour – Trevor Beattie
No this is not a typing mistake. Neither the current MP David Lepper nor the candidate Nancy Platts were there, leaving the Labour Party representative to be a marketing executive with little apparent knowledge of policies, local issues or public speaking. Given that Mr Beattie is not a politician or candidate I don't feel his performance can be judged in comparison to the other speakers. However I would say that if Labour is hoping to win over any Green voters they need to get their act together and start at least turning up to opportunities like this to recruit valuable voters.

You can download a complete podcast of the event here.

Is Nick Clegg the new Barack Obama?

The first time I heard of the Liberal Democrats was during the run up to the ’97 election. There were those big posters of the party leaders in the Tube stations and I remember asking my mum who they were. She told seven-year-old me about John Major and Tony Blair (he was the "good guy" back then), but when I asked her about Paddy Ashdown in the middle she said: “They're the Liberal Democrats, no one really votes for them.”

And she was right. Despite having Paddy's face splashed all over the Underground, the Lib Dems got only 16.8% of the vote in that election. The following year I would leave the country for a decade and return assuming the “middle of the road” party was just as insignificant as it had been before. Yet in the intervening years, the Lib Dems had raised their votes to 18.2% and then to 22%. If the figure rises exponentially we are looking at the very least at a hung parliament this May.

But does this mean that the Nick Clegg actually has a chance at being Prime Minister? There is certainly a lot of hype surrounding the possibility. With recent announcements that he will take part in the UK’s first televised “prime ministerial” debates, it’s not hard to make a case for a Lib Dem vote no longer being a wasted one.

Re-winding couple of years to the US primaries I can remember the “is it really possible?” excitement that fueled every political discussion in the world. If I had had a say, I would have voted for Hillary Clinton as leader of the Democrats. Not because I like her policies, her hair, her husband or the thought of an ex-president’s wife being the new Mrs President. But because I thought that America was not ready for Barack Obama, and that by nominating him, I would have been giving the Republicans the election.

I have learned my lesson. And I like to think that so has the rest of the electorate. In Nick Clegg’s party conference speech last week he consistently hammered “change” and “yes we can”; told sweet little anecdotes about his children; and attempted a slightly higher than average number of jokes. Is this Obama all over again?

The parallels are undeniable: young, arguably naïve promises of “new politics”, Clegg's tax reform to Obama's health reform, the impassioned speeches about a new political system... But is the UK ready to do away with the old and in with the slightly younger and better looking?

Today Obama's emblematic health reform bill was passed by the US House of Representatives, making medical coverage available to 32 million Americans in a drastic shake-up of the system which previously denied health care to those who couldn't afford it. This landmark event seemed almost as unlikely two years ago as the US people voting in a black president.

But will Nick Clegg's tax reform have quite the same emotional impact? He is definitely trying to make it his trademark and he's doing it very well. He's taken “change” and made it “work for you”. As far as I'm concerned this is a great campaign, albeit an unoriginal one. He is articulate, honest, enthusiastic and fresh-faced, and the people like him.

There is no denying that the British public is as disenchanted with politics as it is disengaged, yet it seems like there has never been a better time for the Lib Dems. While Labour is busy slating Cameron and the Tories are busy slating Brown, I'd say to them both: “Look out Old Politics. There's a new kid in town.”

And I thought the BBC couldn't get it wrong again...

Anyone that knows me will know that I go through phases of spending a lot of time in the kitchen. Unfortunately, not many of my culinary experiments are hugely successful, but I enjoy myself tremendously. I also end up feeding a lot of local homeless people on my cakes which have either risen too much, or not enough, or are too sweet, or to salty, or I've just got bored of the recipe while I was making it and have no desire to eat the result.

However, for the last month or so I have drastically reduced the time I spend in an apron. This is because my housemate decided to take his radio, which has always lived in the kitchen, back up to his bedroom, leaving me immersed in the cold and lonely sound of the extractor fan.

And what was it that I had on in the background? Well there was BBC Radio 4 quite often and the occasional bout of Gay Rabbit Station, which was kind of fun. But mainly it was BBC 6 Music. Not from any great loyalty to the station or because I consciously thought it was the best, but it is very listenable, it has an interesting variety of music and it makes your ears prick up every so often.

The news that my favoured radio station faced closure left me rather disconcerted as I walked to the train station this morning, especially as it came with the unpleasant news that the BBC plans to slash its online budget by 25 percent.

I have to say that the thought of “quality over quantity“ does appeal to me. In fact, if I were asked my opinion I might suggest cutting out BBC 3 altogether and allocating the funds to making BBC 4 available during daytime hours. But cutting 6 Music and the relatively innocuous Asian Network seems like a preposterous plan that will do nothing more than shift the public outrage from one aspect of BBC incompetence to another.

I am a fierce defender of the BBC. I believe it is a journalistic treasure and I only wish more countries would adopt the same government-funded model. I bear no resentment at paying my license fee and I even actively defended the exorbitant salaries that employees were getting paid – possibly to the detriment of my future credibility. However, ever the most unwavering of loyalties can be challenged and I cannot see a way around saying that this is simply a step too far.

Within months of a general election, the idea reeks of political interests and barely hidden commercial appeasement. In one fell swoop the BBC has short-sightedly cut out a huge demographic of consumers, obviously deciding that it is not necessary to cater for the very people they aimed to reach eight years ago when 6 Music was launched, along with other digital and online incentives which have subsequently been adopted by practically every private broadcasting company in the country.

Luckily as of yet nothing is set in stone, and I think we have the power to change the outcome. By all means, join facebook groups, email the BBC (trust.enquiries@bbc.co.uk), march outside the headquarters if you have to. But please show them that we do care, we do matter, we do vote and it would be a huge mistake for the BBC to underestimate us.