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I’m now downloading Windows Ten. My laptop has a “relic” rating, and urgently requires updating (what coup o’erthrew the placid pen?) I beard the lion in his den: don’t know my LAN from Uncle Len. Why is hi-tech so irritating? Like Robespierre in Père Duchesne, I’ll never be the same again. I’m not convinced I want this tripe. What makes it worse, we have to pay! The mugs no longer have a say. Bombarded by the big boys’ hype, we take the pain. We’re trained to type on OneDrive, Watsapp, Webmail, Skype, and once they take our toys away, we grimace, grovel, grumble, gripe but, Paypal paid, evade the wipe. Big Billy Gates, I hope you’re proud! Philanthropist? Yeah, thanks a bunch – you hit me with a sucker punch. “My business isn’t greed,” you vowed, proclaiming fairness, long and loud. Deception is, it seems, allowed When “care” comes to commercial crunch. Sequestered on the cyber cloud, I blog on, bloodied but unbowed.