- Suisse Army Make-up Pen Knife
developments for the Suisse Army Make-up Knife
- Russian Suisse Army Knife
- The Flip-side of Gadgets
Here we literally take a leaf out of the Suisse army pen knife. Instead of a blade
we have the hair-dryer, instead of corkscrew we have a lipstick.
Features of the Suisse Army Make-up Pen Knife
Far from picking stones out of boy-scout's hooves, this knife will help groom any girl into a film star.
1) Miniature hair-dryer to coiffure her hair.
2) Selection of lipsticks for that kiss-me-quick look.
3) Eyebrow pencil for that sultry look.
Future developments for the Suisse Army Make-up Knife
Extra blades with small tubes of
- Nail varnish
- Moisturising cream
- Also the engineers are developing an expanding mirror
Russian Suisse Army Knife
We also have an accompanying accessory, the make-up mouse. See this handy gadget contains a mirror, make-up brush and a mini-bottle of perfume.
- See the make-up mouse
The Flip-side of Gadgets
Monday January 21, 2008
According to a survey, two-thirds of people think gadgets are becoming too
complicated. They're packed with features they don't understand, and
subsequently never use. One newspaper illustrated the story with a photograph of
'a typical TV remote' featuring '43 baffling buttons', annotated with captions
telling you what each of these buttons did, just to make it look even more
complex and bewildering: 'cursor up', 'cursor down', 'a/v input connector 1',
'device mode', and so on.
Thing is, there weren't enough buttons for my liking. I love a complicated TV
remote. They should have more stuff on them: dials and joysticks and flashing
lights. I dream of a remote with its own mouse.
And I don't want a manual. I like to work out what each nubbin does through
trial and error, poking it and staring at the screen. Best of all is the 'menu'
button, which grants you access to a whole new array of on screen options,
replete with little icons and sliding scales. Sit me in front of a brand-new
telly and it's the first thing I'll reach for, because new tellies often come
with surprising and exotic new features provided by the gods of technology.
Coo! I can design my own font for the subtitles! Wow! I can flip the picture
sideways so I don't have to lift my head if I'm lying perpendicular on the sofa!
And look! There's a slider for adjusting the level of regional accents! Now I
can make the Geordie guy who narrates Big Brother sound like a Cornish
I'll happily spend hours fine-tuning everything to my liking. Woe betide
anyone who hits the 'restore default settings' button. That's like smashing a
piece of ornate pottery I've created. The other day, a Sky repairman turned up
and breezily started playing with my settings, adjusting the contrast and colour
balance as if he owned the place. I was outraged by the violation, as though
he'd pulled my trousers down and nonchalantly examined my goolies.
I tend to assume other people share my obsessive need to examine the settings
until everything is just so, and get genuinely enraged when I go to someone's
house and discover, say, that they're watching programmes in the wrong aspect
ratio. People over 50 are the worst offenders: they'll blithely sit through a
Dad's Army repeat that is unnaturally stretched across the screen so that the
entire cast look as if they had difficult births that left them with flattened
skulls. Faced with this, I get acute back-seat-driver anxiety, and end up
hectoring them like an exasperated pilot trying to teach a four-year-old how to
fly a helicopter.
Recently, I was on a plane, sitting beside an 80-year-old woman who couldn't
comprehend how the in-flight entertainment system worked. It had a touch-screen
monitor and an additional set of controls in the armrest. Thing is, she didn't
understand the difference between my armrest and hers. There I was, watching a
movie in a bid to distract myself from the terror of being 30,000ft up in the
sky, when she patted cluelessly at my controls and switched it off. I started it
again. Then she hit my fast-forward button.
At this point, I politely explained what was going on and attempted to help
her operate her system. She nodded and went 'ooh' and 'ahh', but try as I might,
she just didn't get it. Ten minutes later, she stopped my film again, and kept
doing so intermittently throughout the flight, sometimes switching my overhead
light on for good measure, just to annoy me. Her screen, meanwhile, displayed
nothing but the synopsis for an episode of Everybody Hates Chris, which she'd
selected by accident but never played. She just sat there, staring at the
synopsis for about three hours. I think she thought that was the entertainment.
Shamefully, I found myself starting to genuinely hate her - her doddering
incompetence somehow rendered her less than human. Reverse the situation - put
me in a 1940s household, say, and ask me to operate a mangle, and the chances
are I'd earn her contempt with an equal display of ineptitude. But it isn't the
1940s. It's now. So snap out of it. Hit the right buttons or get left behind,
you medieval dunce. Do you want the robots to take over? Because that's what'll
happen if we don't all keep up. How dare you jeopardise the human race like
that. How dare you.
And if people still refuse to learn, let's force them into it. Replace all
supermarkets with complex remote-control vending machines that dispense food
only if you can successfully navigate your way through a 25-tier menu system.
And make it illegal to pass the food to anyone else. Before long, we'll starve
the idiots out of existence; manufacturers will never have to simplify anything
ever again, and we'll enjoy a golden age of buttons and options and adjustable
sliders and a/v input connector 1. Now that's progress.
This week Charlie bought a bit of speech-recognition software designed to
prevent RSI by letting you talk instead of type, but gave up after he spent more
time correcting its mistakes: 'It got every sixth word wrong, which meant you'd
swear in exasperation, and it would think you had finished each sentence by
saying, 'Offer fox ache', and type that in too.'
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