I’d be a one-worded moany old lady with dodgy hair

Although Rick loves the snow, he knows the reality can lead to treacherous conditions

RICK JACKSON: The reality may be treacherous but there’s nothing I’d like more than a white Christmas

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Black Mirror is back on our screens, offering us ‘short stories’ of modern life.

For those who aren’t familiar with it, Charlie Brooker and Channel Four have created a series of one-episode dramas that, if I understand the premise correctly, reflect the potential side-effects of modern life. Like, for example, the intrusion of technology into our lives.

I caught two out of three of the first series, finding the initial episode shocking (as the UK’s fictional prime minister was forced to perform an extraordinary sex act on live TV to save a kidnapped princess) and the last dull in comparison (as a marriage fell apart due to technology revealing secrets).

I was very excited to see there was a new series on Channel Four, which started with a fab premise. A woman’s partner died and she missed him so much that she ordered an experimental flesh dummy which came to life (via a bath stuffed full of electrolytes).

The fake partner came complete with programmed language and responses picked up from his e-mails, tweets, Facebook messages and home movies.

What a cool idea, hey? That you can bring a part of a person to life based on their technological activities.

It made me think about what my ‘technological’ persona would be like – but that was worrying, as I would be made up of a lot of random likes on Facebook (my interpretation of keeping in touch with people without telephoning them) and some bizarre comments on Twitter about the state of my hair.

I do not appear in home videos – I’m the one behind the camera – and my text messages are generally either one word only or crazy predictive text that makes no sense.

And as for my column? Yikes, I read it back and think that I sound like such an old woman sometimes. So my persona would be a one-worded moany old lady with dodgy hair – in fact, a female Father Jack from Craggy Island.

I’ll cross my fingers that this particular brand of science doesn’t make it into real life, and that my husband and I both live to a ripe old age so we don’t inflict even stranger versions of each other on the world.