Disability Bitch loves the internet

Actually, I might've missed quite a lot of things because for the three weeks I was sunning myself on foreign beaches, I didn't have a regular internet connection. I know! It was only an hour before I started twitching. It won't come as a surprise to you, gentle readers, that I LOVE THE INTERNET - this is, after all, a web-based gossip column and I exist almost entirely in virtual form, so was somewhat surprised to learn that an internet addiction clinic has opened in America.

Yes, the US may not have a national health service, nor any kind of Disability Living benefit, but if you spend more time than you should on the internet, it would seem you're in the right place.

The thing is, I spend my entire life on the internet. So do most disabled people I know. In fact ... I may well be an internet addict myself. It's something I freely admit. I do not perceive the excessive amount of time I spend on the internet as a problem. See, many addicts use whatever they are addicted to as an escape from their real life - drink, drugs, solvents - falsely believing that whatever they are addicted to is an improvement. Usually, their addiction is destroying their real life. Allow me to stick my fluffy spazmoid neck on the line here: my addiction to the interweb is not destroying my life ... it is improving it.

Inside I'm surfing

I know, I know, that's what all addicts say. So, should you dare to disagree with me, I've made a helpful list of why my virtual life is better than my actual life. I'm so confident you won't be able to prove me wrong on any of these points, I'll happily check into rehab if you can think of a single reason why I'm incorrect:

OK. I know we have a Disability Discrimination Act. I know I am supposed to be able to walk into any shop in the UK and buy whatever I want to buy, just like any non-disabled customer. Why is it, then, that when I do venture into a bricks and mortar shop, frequently I find myself wobbling into misplaced shop displays, getting stuck in too-small changing rooms while trying on trousers I didn't want to buy in the first place, knocking over tins of baked beans, and having to neck pain killers because of the massive queues in most stores at weekends, after which I am so exhausted I have to shell out for a taxi home. On the internet, I can buy whatever I want to buy in just a few clicks and from the comfort of my sofa, and the retailer will deliver it to my door without me even having to stand up. What's not to love?

Visibly disabled people will know that, sometimes, when you deign to leave the house, you'll be accosted by a non-disabled stranger who wants to know if you have broken your leg. Note that they will want to know if you've broken your leg whatever your impairment might be. Invisibly disabled people, meanwhile, will have such problems getting others to accommodate their needs that they spend half their life telling inconsiderate strangers that they are disabled, honest. On the internet, very little of this is an issue; no one need know you are disabled unless you care to tell them. Sure, sometimes you might want to, but that's entirely within your gift. For once, you the cripple can control who gets this medical type information. Suck on that!

Yes, yes, I know some internet sites are inaccessible to some people. This is bad. But the internet is - generally - more accessible than the rest of the world to most people, occasionally with the help of access technology. Take the news, for instance. Prior to the world wide web, my blind mates would phone me up every ten minutes asking what was happening in the world. They couldn't read daily newspapers, they couldn't glance at the headlines on Teletext or Ceefax (remember them), they simply had to sit by a radio and wait for the hourly news. And deafies or people with communication problems which mean they can't use phones can use email. For me, it just means I never have to speak to another human being - and considering I hate everyone, this is a massive advantage.

Should you stumble across an inaccessible site, you just swear and click on a different one instead, rather than limping round for ages trying to find an accessible shop on your high street. And it happened in my lifetime!

So you see, readers, I firmly believe disabled people should become internet addicts and it's the ones determined to live in the real world who've got a problem. I suggest you get help for that, guys.

To be honest, I don't much care about Heather anymore but in case you do, she's been seen out and about with some race car driver and it's all very glamorous. Yawn.

While I've been away, I seem to have acquired 1,500 Facebook friends, which does suggest that everyone who reads this column is an internet addict like me. I still don't understand Twitter, though. If you'd like to follow the crowd and be my virtual buddy - even though I'll still hate you - you can find me here. I update you on my mood every so often ... it'll be a really special journey for us both.