You recall the Monty Python sketch about the poor sod who goes on telly to promote his book and discovers to his horror that the TV presenter is only interested in his lame nickname, “Arthur ‘Two Sheds’ Jackson”?
Books are damned difficult to start, maintain and complete; any author should be proud of their achievement in completing a book, never mind getting the sod published. However, Jackson's long hours and hard work are worth precisely zilch in the eyes of the TV presenter and his bosses: all they care about is the ratings scored by making far more of Jackson's pathetic nick-name than it deserves.
Even after he explains that he's got rid of one of them, it's still Jackson's lame nick-name, this trivial bit of information, that the TV presenter pursues.
Those of you who know me from Facebook might guess where this is heading, and my reason for writing this piece today: my usual Facebook account has been disabled, and so has the replacement I set up almost a month later. Rather than be known as “Robert Brokenaccounts” or “Robert Two-Fucked-Facebook-Pages Brokenmouth”, I thought perhaps a brisk explanation might be in order.
First, however, a statement of intent: I never want to go on Facebook (or Instagram, or WhatsApp) under my own name again.
Now, back in early December 2025, I was asked to “prove I was a human being”. The usual captcha-style numbers and letters followed. Fine. FB has sent waves of data checking before; seven months ago or so it deleted ten million pages.
So, after the captcha schtick, I was asked to upload a video of my face. I was extremely unhappy about this because this facial recog looks like being the equivalent of fingerprint ID of the future - the UK Electronic Travel Authorisation (or ETA) uses this facial recognition technology, as does Europe. I expect most other countries will be adopting it soon too.
Now, never mind the obvious (like, what happens if your face alters...?), I was not a little irritated at being asked to demonstrate that I was a human being in such a privacy-tossing way when a simple glance at any of my FB messages would confirm that I was, in fact, a human being.
Ah, but as I've been told, “mate, they don't care about that, or you. They're a data farm!”
Mmm. Anyway, I reluctantly began the process and - lacking any prompts or further instructions from FB - I couldn't get the bloody thing to upload. So I tried a few more times, each time increasingly dubious about the wisdom of what I was doing.
As I did so, I questioned whether I really needed my Facebook page at all. I mean, it's damned useful, certainly. I considered that I didn't have real contact details for most of the friends that I wanted to remain in contact with (you know, phone and email). That's what kept me trying to upload the wretched video.
If you've been on Facebook for any length of time, you'll notice the increasing amount of adverts, often wildly inappropriate (often sexual in nature). If you've looked at their 'business' accounts, FB seems to want us all to monetize our accounts by uploading reels and adverts - several per week. Irritated, I would occasionally pull a main image of one of these noxious ads down and post it on my page - you know: "FB! why do you think I need incontinence pads/ leather boy BDSM gear". Imagine my amazement when these posts would get me banned for breaching “FB community standards”..
I don't know about you, but I went on FB to connect with friends and meet like-minded folk and have a fairly innocuous time poking fun at how we take ourselves too seriously. Bit difficult to do that now they've placed limits on how many of your friends see your posts. I began to wonder why the hell I was bothering with this frustrating upload. Also, I felt like my pocket was being picked.
Have you ever been scammed? Or sold something expensive that you really don't need, but were so captivated by the manner of the salesman that you bought it anyway, to find that, when you got home, you felt like you were no end of a chump? That's kind of how I felt going through this process.
I won't go on about the facial recog thing - if you see no problem with providing your date of birth and address to a social media site, then fine. I've never used the real things - which is to me just basic security. Do I trust the security - and honesty - of a social media site? No, of course not. You, on the other hand ... I've got a bridge I'd like to sell you. Or a castle. Anything. Just have your bank details handy, this won't take a moment...
As I persevered with this upload, I pondered that perhaps the machine was having difficulty comprehending the cluttered background of books on shelves. And - perhaps the lighting wasn't bright enough. But I can't pick my computer up and lug it round the house looking for the right light and background - nor did I want Facebook on my phone. And as I say, there were no prompts - unlike the UK ETA.
In the end? I realised that no matter what I did, I was going to lose the page, so ... I accepted it.
However, I was seriously inconvenienced by the loss of the page. There were dozens and dozens of folks I knew but only had FB details, so had no immediate way of contacting them. For example, friends died and I couldn't reach out to mutual friends. The clutter of Christmas is always painful, so the timing was annoying in that sense as well.
And of course, I couldn't tell people about the gig this Thursday night at the Arthur Art Bar. (see below)
A bit over a week ago, a friend persuaded me to set up a new page, mostly to allow other friends and music fans to contact me more directly. I did so, using a different email, trying to befriend the friends I'd lost.
Apparently trying to befriend too many people sets off this particular FB algorithm which bustles over with all the charm of a little robot vacuum cleaner, and within 36 hours I got the same FB request to prove I'm human.
Of course, there was no point in proceeding because I couldn't do the video thing. And so by now, not only am I annoyed, I'm disgusted and not a little insulted. It's pretty easy, surely, to detect whether someone behind a page is a human or not? Surely the nature of messages between people cannot be mimicked so readily? Quite apart from the fact that, like many people, a simple Google search of my name will bring up numerous results.
But of course, FB are a “data farm”'. What they want from us is our data, our compliances, our money. They've been outed as having too many malicious pages set up by bots to promote all manner of outlandish and unpleasant shitfulness. And, because they apparently initially established their network up without sensible checks and balances, the shitful crap stays - while the rest of us... well.
Let's just say you may have a choice to make over the next year.
Anyway, fully accepting that I was dealing with bots not people, I fired off a complaint to two emails at FB, providing as much background data to demonstrate my human-beingness. I needn't have bothered - the weight of FB's structure is an upside-down pyramid. No humans could possibly be accountable for maintaining the unwieldy, clunky old temple.
Among other things, I wrote: "First, you might take a look at the other 'Robert Brokenmouth' page on FB, the one without a profile pic and damn-all friends. It's fake - it's not me. I did report it at the time as a fake page, but since the page is still up I can only suppose that you disagree. Laughable, isn't it? particularly given the current circumstances? FB cancels my actual two pages but leaves up the fake one."
I asked them to shut the old FB page, the one you may be familiar with, with its long lists of innumerable posts and interactions with my friends, as "this entire episode has left such a very bad impression on me that even if it were restored to me I would immediately shut it down."
I also asked them to restore the more recent page.
About a week later, it looks like the FB bots are "investigating" the reality of the fake FB page, but have entirely removed my new one. The old one is still apparently waiting for me to upload a facial recognition video, despite me explaining that I can't do it, and that I am real.
A couple of things give me pause. First, I recall my old school-chum, Paul Le Poideven who, in either 1979 or 1980 explaining with amusement (screwing his face up in his unique and wonderful elastic fashion) that "computers are only as smart as the programmer". Rest in Peace, Paul. He'd be laughing his head of at my frustration.
And here we are in 2026, thinking that computer wonks are so terribly clever. They're not, and never have been. These thoughtless nerds run vast companies which involve billions of people in over 110 languages ... and because they treat us like data sources, not human beings, they're unable to provide us with transparency, or decent treatment.
Which brings me, finally, to my point.
If you've been on Facebook for any length of time, you'll also have been told off for posting something which 'goes against Facebook community standards'; perhaps you've served an apparently vindictive reduction of FB use, or even been banned for showing a nipple in a picture ten years ago - or what looks like a nipple to an indifferent bot.
Now, none of us are going to be arsed looking up what Facebook community standards are, are we? Much of their finger-wagging claptrap is not about what you've done, or that they give a shit, but other - outside, often political - things. I mean, come on, Facebook doesn't have control over its empire of pages now because it didn't impose useful - and detailed - checks and balances in the first place. And they're fine with that, apparently, because they're busy flogging our data, and inappropriate products to us. Every click another 50 cents, perhaps.
As far as I can see, from my own experience and watching other people's frustrations, FB's actual community standards involve: normalising abrupt and often baffling removal of services without adequate explanation, rudeness to strangers as well as acquaintances, imposing rules without adequate explanation, and farming our personal details to persons or conglomerates unknown. Basically, the absence of friendliness, decency and honesty, and the increase in preferring distance to actual interpersonal relationships, and of course, what I can only characterise as contempt for customers.
And we let them do this - because it all took place gradually, over twenty-plus years. Also, we're so accustomed to responding to being told what to do by our computer/ phone, that the computer sets our guidelines.
If that's the kind of community the Techbros represent, the ultimate digitisation and de-meaning of human life, quality of human life, and all its creative expressions (like Spotify) I don't want a bar of them, and I'm rather glad to have had the scales yanked from my eyes.
So, sure. I'm an old fart who remembers what decent customer service is. So when you increasingly encounter folks who just don't give a shit about you, do note that their main example in how to treat people is likely the Techbros' example, followed by everyone else's.
For the time being, I still want to be able to reach out to like-minded folks on this particular platform, so I will co-operate with a friend whose account is still up, and who also has an Instagram account.
How long these last is anyone's guess. After that it's back to emails and phone numbers.
Lastly, did I tell you about the gig this Thursday night at the Arthur Art Bar? It's a full-on flesh-to-flesh interface, from 8.30pm, The Molly Fet Circuit, Blu J and Gaston: 66 Currie Street, Adelaide.
Since I can't plug our gigs on Facebook (gig guides in newspapers are long gone, as are Adelaide's respected music weeklies), and most interesting shops only allow government-funded posters in their windows, I guess the future is taping flyers to street-poles and spray-painting the walls.
Remember: at the end of the day, when we die, it's not “dust to dust”, but “data to corruption”.
