Magazine article The Spectator

Real Life: Melissa Kite

Magazine article The Spectator

Real Life: Melissa Kite

Article excerpt

After much thought, I am toying with the idea of faking my own death.

I mean in a virtual sense, but as virtual reality is more important than physical reality nowadays, this is pretty heavy stuff.

Specifically, I want to cease to exist on Facebook, Twitter and all other social networking platforms, where I barely exist anyway because they frighten me so much, but where I have what is known as 'a presence'. Do not scoff. I have reason to believe it may well be possible to do this.

A few weeks ago, I faked my own iPhone death. People said it couldn't be done. But I managed it by trashing the screen, accidently on subliminally purpose, and telling everyone that my phone provider wouldn't let me have another one until I was due an upgrade in three months' time, which was true -- thanks, EE -- and that I was refusing to buy one sooner on principle.

I switched back to an old BlackBerry with buttons and no access to the internet -- something to do with the fact that the BlackBerry corporation, in so far as it exists, is not really up and doing. I texted everyone to say this was the way it was, and they would just have to live with the fact that I couldn't be sent links, or invitations to partake of free gabbling on WhatsApp.

Everyone accepted this pretty much, eventually, although inevitably there were a lot of folk who continued to call and text the iPhone and send me lots of links and invitations on WhatsApp to talk about the fact that I had trashed my iPhone.

I could see all this because after a few days of the screen being blank from the smashing, it came weirdly back to life. Like Kathy Bates in Misery, the iPhone blinked back on even though it was bashed half to pieces and all logic said it had to be dead. But I didn't tell anyone this. Oh no.

I could have replied to all the messages on my iPhone saying 'Call me back! I've got an old iPhone you can have!' But I didn't.

I stuck to my lovely old BlackBerry with buttons and I sent everyone messages from it saying, 'Here I am!'

Some refused to answer -- on principle, presumably. Others texted back, with or without jokes about how I must have found this BlackBerry in the Victoria and Albert Museum. …

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