Every city ponce+dog is well teched up

IN 2004 we're looking at a year where technology is sure to become more commonplace than it's ever been. Big PC vendors such as Dell and HP have spent last year driving down PC prices, meaning that the great majority of the great unwashed can afford to purchase a decent PC, the spec of which far outstrips any potential use it could be put to. And beyond the home PC, the trend is extending elsewhere, into other sectors. Home cinema PCs, once within the exclusive remit of the home-theatre-techno-boffin, are becoming increasingly common place, with vendors offering off-the-shelf bastardisations to those with a purpose, but no passion. The days of the techno-aristocracy are dwindling, and doesn't that just right royally piss you off?

Allow me to cite, as an example, technology close to my heart. Literally. My blessed iPod travels in my jacket pocket wherever I go, with its tell-tale earphones a distinctive marker in my carefully-chosen suburban-chic outfit. They scream to all lookers - 'Look at me! I have an iPod!' Except that that once unsurmountable cachet has been substantially eroded as of late.

When I bought my first baby-white-wonder, the original 5GB model, it was a trophy of sheer decadence. It's Mac-exclusive eloquence won my heart, and it became the illustrious love-child of my illicit union with a PowerBook; the sleek-lined, slender beauty that won me away from my dependable, yet boring, work-bitch, the XP desktop. My friends and colleagues gawped at its storage capacity, it's unsurpassed industrial design and the sheer perfection of its conception; the perfect union of Mac and gadget.

Nine months ago, after the untimely death of my first-born iPod, it was replaced with the new (and more expensive) 15GB model. Apple had achieved the impossible - it was slimmer, sexier, with increased functonality. I basked in the cool blue glow of its screen, sunned myself in the orange glow of the Menu button. Never had gadgetry attained such levels of perfection - the perfect synergy of style and functionality. GQ magazine named it their gadget of the year, securing its place in the hearts of the trendy.

But wait a minute. GQ? What the fudge do GQ know about technology? They're a bunch of city ponces who write over-inflated reviews of over-hyped bands, and subscribe to the theory that it's really justifiable to buy a pair of £70,000 cufflinks. They wouldn't know technology if it turned up slapped them in the face with a wet fish! The nutters proclaimed a Samsung drive king of the DVD-ReWriters, when any techie worth his salt will tell you that the Pioneer 106 is the model to beat.

But GQ holds sway with the non-tech-savvy reader - the reader with purpose but no passion. As I walk around Oxford, I see iPod headphones in the ears of student+dog. My flat-mate got one for his PC for Christmas. For his PC. iPods are so damn commonplace now, even the Dell-douches buy them.

Whilst we may welcome the internet's pervasiveness in society, and the slow decline of the digital divide, it leaves the techno-enthuiast with an ever-shrinking amount of real-estate, as manufacturers pander to the mass market. No longer is my iPod a sign of digital class; I have become, in the eyes of the illiterate, just another guy that could afford the price tag. The connotation of digital class my iPod once was has become just another item for those looking to spend their money, and my techno-leadership counts for nothing.

It seems the price of technological ubiquity in society is self-esteem. µ

Wil Harris is editor of UK tech-site Bit-Tech