So it's come to this. Traffic wardens waddling around with cameras on their heads, like a 70s sitcom approximation of RoboCop. Miniature, pilotless spycopters hovering overhead, simultaneously fighting crime and peering down girls' dresses. And - as mentioned a few weeks ago - CCTV cameras audibly shrieking at yobs, litterbugs, and anyone with a slouchy walk. The future's not only arrived, it's entered our lives with all the breezy assurance of a character from Neighbours popping into Harold Bishop's kitchen and casually helping himself to an orange juice. The air is thick with magic wi-fi atoms. We're literally breathing technology.

All of which should make us the most depersonalised generation in history, right? After all, we're analysed and observed, prodded and scrutinised, catalogued and chronicled, 24 hours a day. As far as the software's concerned, a human being is nothing more than a 3D barcode made of animated pork; a blob on the radar.

Yet thrillingly, we refuse to be beaten. We may have willingly submitted to this unfolding mass experiment in passive-aggressive suppression, but we're not going to feel like meaningless pixels, goddammit. No siree. Instead, we've gone the other way and become hugely self-important. Every single one of us is the centre of the universe. Our mantra: have it your way. Because you're worth it. Because you're special. More special than, say, the person standing beside you - can you believe that idiot actually thinks you're talking to them? Ha ha ha! As if! You're the special one. Right? Don't let anyone tell you different. Keep repeating: You are special. And if you detect a whiff of desperation in your own voice, don't worry. That's just part of your specialness.

Remember the time that bad thing happened to you? You know. The bad thing? Knocked you for six, didn't it? Perhaps you were left wondering whether the universe is a godless, random sort of place which doesn't understand the concept of favouritism. Well, you were wrong, silly! The bad thing happened for a reason. Everything happens for a reason. No, really: there's a gigantic Department of Reason deciding these things, located somewhere between the spirit realm and the superstition junction; a shimmering celestial office where invisible civil servants plot out Your Fate and Your Destiny on an almighty chart. The paperwork involved is mind-boggling, but it's worth it. You're worth it. You're special. Keep repeating: You are special

So yes, you have a destiny all of your own, and in the meantime, while it's slowly being fulfilled - while all these things are happening to you for a reason - you should demand nothing but the best. The greatest comfort, the tastiest meals, the widest possible choice of entertainment. It's all about you. Look! Movies on demand! Widescreen movies, movies you can play and pause and repeat as you see fit. Hey, fast-forward the damn thing if you like! Go crazy! It's your movie!

And we'll adapt to your mood. You're in control. Want chuckles? You got 'em! More than 200 Adam Sandler movies at the touch of a button. Want romance? It's yours! More than 200 Adam Sandler movies at the touch of a button. Want Adam Sandler? Yes sir! More than 200 Adam Sandler movies at the touch of a button.

You've never had so much choice. It's part of your destiny. Because you're worth it. Everything in those movies happens for a reason. And it happens in front of your eyes because you're special. Keep repeating: You are special

Now, if you'd just like to pop that special fingertip of yours on this scanning device for a moment ... that's the way ... and just keep your special eyelids open while the iris recognition software does its thing ... that's lovely ... now, you might get a bit bored during this next bit - we're going to analyse your prior credit transactions and generate a purchasing destiny chart - so while we're doing that, slip some headphones into your special little ears (white headphones, pink headphones, red, blue, olive - pick a colour that you feel expresses your personality best) and listen to your very own choice of music while our computer chugs away in the background. Are you comfortable? Would you like to lie down? We've got 1,000 pillows for you to choose from. Pick the one you feel expresses your personality best. Plump it up (or don't! You decide!). Lie back. Close your eyes (quickly or slowly! You decide!).

Tell you what. We can pump some dreams into your brain if you like. Want dreams? More than 2,000 Adam Sandler dreams at the touch of a button. Have it your way. And we'll do what we like while you enjoy your little snooze. That's right. That's good. That's special. You're special. Keep repeating: You are special.

Continuing our uniquely unreliable interactive knowledge resource

Danny Dyer (requested by reader Kieran Dawkins)

Danny Dyer is an actor, geezer, and man of the people, played by the "I'm a little bit whoa, a little bit wheyyy" Paul Whitehouse character popular in The Fast Show circa 1995.

Approximately 500 times more normal and down-to-Earth than the average citizen, Dyer is the absolute antithesis of a pretentious luvvie. He displays a refreshing absence of airs and graces and is as happy having a kic k-around with the lads as giving a promotional interview about how he's equally happy having a kick-around with the lads.

Unfortunately, just as certain poisonous fish have evolved "warning colours" alerting predators to the toxic nature of their flesh, Dyer's presence on a movie poster has become a handy visual signifier alerting cinema-goers to the potential substandard quality of the film, unless said cinema-goer is so insanely enamoured with gangsters, football hooligans and rough diamonds who swear a lot, that they'll watch literally anything in which any of these elements feature, to the point where you could paint Ronnie Kray's face on a beachball, kick it in their direction, and charge them £7.99 to stare in silent idiocy as it rolls toward them.

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