Boozers should always remain an inner sanctum
There are only a handful of certainties in life: Benjamin Franklin famously cited death and taxes, but wasting hours queuing at the bar must surely feature in that list.
There cannot be anybody out there who, at some point in their lives, has not lost the will to live while waiting to get the Boddingtons and Babychams. If someone you know says they haven't experienced the sheer frustration of being ignored by a gormless barman or barmaid then they are either a liar or, even worse, the type of person who thinks getting the beers in is for the hoi polloi.
It doesn't matter who you are or how you look, waiting to wet your whistle in a crowded hostelry is a tricky business.
Those who look like me – plain, to put it kindly – struggle more than most because we don’t naturally catch the eye of others. We are left to resort to tactics such as waving a 20 pound note – unless you live in 2010, you will struggle to buy a round for anything less.
I am told by those who
have plied their trade on the opposite side of the bar that the proffering of the folding stuff is a surefire way of guaranteeing that you will have to wait a little while longer.
The agony of being constantly mugged off could soon be a thing of the past.
There is one pub in London which is using facial recognition technology to help bar staff determine who is next. By all accounts, it is a success so far and the makers of the technology say it keeps punters happy and increases the productivity of bar staff.
There is now talk that this will be rolled out nationwide. But what about privacy?
Even though those behind the innovation insist cameras are fully signposted and drinkers are informed they could be caught on film, it doesn’t sit right with somebody who regards the inside of a boozer as an inner sanctum, a place where you really can mind your own business.
Technology has taken a grip on the world, I get that.
And I know that, before long, a robot might well do me out of a job.
What I don’t think the planet needs is Big Brother fighting our battles for us in the very traditional environs of the English pub.