Graham is banging his head against the desk

Hattie’s entertaining post about Facebook reminded me that I needed to update my contact details to include the Doormat Picnic site. When I logged in to do so I was greeted by a new instant messaging feature which, by default, makes you available to ‘chat’ with any of your friends who happen to be logged in also. Where the hell did that come from? And more importantly, WHY? This feature has instantly changed Facebook from being hugely annoying to unbearably annoying. Perhaps you can turn off the IM in the preferences, but to be honest I didn’t stick around long enough to find out.

Fair enough, I’m not your typical Facebook user. I have a modest 20 friends, never update my status (because who, truthfully, gives a toss?) and log in once in a blue moon. I found the site enjoyable for about a week after I first joined – all those old school photos, finding out what everyone was up to and how they look now – but then the honeymoon was over. And the requests started piling up. ‘A’ wants to know which character in The Bill you most resemble! ‘B’ has just scored 80% on a Les Dennis trivia quiz – can you beat them? ‘C’ is showing you his pants – why not show him yours? It doesn’t matter how many friends you have, you’re bound to have one who installs every single bloody application they can find. If it drives me to distraction with just 20 friends, I can only imagine how awful it would be if I were popular. The number of times I’ve hit the ‘ignore’ button is close to the number of times I’ve considered removing myself from the site. So why haven’t I? Well, I always reasoned that I wouldn’t want to miss out if someone I really liked wanted to make contact. It’s unlikely, but there’s always a chance. I think, however, that the IM thing has tipped the balance.

The concept of instant messaging sends a chill through my bones. I’ve only ever done it twice. The second time was merely to ensure that my first time hadn’t been an unfortunate and unrepresentative experience. It wasn’t. It’s terrifying. The idea that somebody else knows when you’re online and is able to invade your desktop is horror worthy of Hitchcock. It’s not like a phone call where you can pretend you’re not in – you’re there, and they know it. You have to respond. There’s no escape.

I like to be in total control of how I’m contacted. My landline has caller display and if I don’t recognise the number I never answer it. Even if I do know who it is, I have the option of ignoring them. The same, of course, is true of my mobile. I also live in fear of running into someone I know at Tescos. If speaking can be avoided, that’s the option I’ll take – at work I fax orders rather than phone them through and email customers if possible. Email, I’ve decided, is the most perfect means of communication ever invented (notwithstanding all the spam).

So if (or as seems increasingly likely, when) I remove myself from Facebook, I don’t think they’ll be too sad about it. They won’t be losing a staunch ambassador. Maybe this modern world has left me behind, or maybe I’m just a reclusive bore. I haven’t decided. One thing’s for sure though – when I finally make up my mind, you won’t hear about it on Facebook.