From today's Electronic Telegraph:

In my opinion: Fear of flying meets the bug

It's hard to conceive anything more ridiculous than a Millennium Baby, says Vanessa Collingridge

OK, so we're all fed up with prophecies of millennial digital Armageddon. In fact, any sane person wishing to stay so throughout the next eight months would surely ban the "M" word altogether. But news that the International Air Transport Association has refused the Government's request for information on how the world's airports are coping with the Y2K bug is surely more ammunition for the angels of doom.

As someone whose weekly food intake comes almost entirely from air carriers, this news bothers me deeply. It's not that I have any plans to travel during the coming Hogmanay; it's more that keeping such information confidential denies potential passengers the chance to make a rational choice over whether or not to risk travelling - as well as adding fuel to the general fear of technology smouldering among the general public.

The reason for keeping the information secret is allegedly that airports and traffic services were told the information would remain confidential. However, it'll be interesting to see how that looks in court, should any air disasters actually occur. Can you imagine the defence lawyers standing up and claiming, "Well, my client didn't want to tell anyone because then they might cancel their travel arrangements"?

So, a pyrrhic victory for the right to remain silent - but before I put my high horse back in its stable, I should add the rider that the ability of an intelligent public to make an informed choice has been somewhat cast into doubt over the past few weeks. On TV, radio and in the press, the talk is of spawning the first baby of the 21st century. Perhaps I'm just sore that, now I've turned the wrong side of 30, everyone expects my biological clock (do they have Y2K glitches?) to deafen me with its ticking until I, too, give in, go forth and multiply.

Still, the very idea of conceiving solely in order to produce a Millennium Baby is enough to make you sick - morning, noon and night. I suppose it was inevitable that the media would highlight the best time to achieve this feat; you can even find sites on the Internet dedicated to producing the first child of the Year 2000. Apart from the obvious sponsorship deals that would inevitably result, it would be like committing your child to a real-life version of The Truman Show, the only difference being that Jim Carey managed to escape from the set he called home; Millennium kids would be stuck in the spotlight for life.

Yorkshire TV already has cameras in the bedrooms of prospective Millennial parents - although one would have thought that being watched by millions of voyeuristic viewers would be more a contraceptive than an aphrodisiac. But, as the Yorkshire saying goes, there's nowt so queer as folk, and the forthcoming documentary will no doubt prove this true.

As for me, I'll settle for the dancing baby from the TV series, Ally McBeal: you can download it as a screensaver with no tedious prenatal classes to go through, no stitches and - best of all - no pain. This digital approach to parenthood also has the distinct advantage that, come Hogmanay '99, I'll be feasting on a plate of blue cheese and toasting the new year with bottle or five of champagne while my pregnant counterparts settle for a bumpy ride in an ambulance and a diet of gas and air.

Cut and pasted by

-- Old Git (anon@spamproblems.com), April 09, 1999

Answers

RIGHT ONNNNNNNN SISTAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!

-- Taz (Tassie@aol.com), April 09, 1999.