Let this thing buzz off now

10:19am Thursday 8th May 2008

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THE Mosquito is an electronic anti-teenager device. It emits ultra-sonic sounds, which can be heard by young people, but not their elders and supposed betters.

A number of observations can be made about this, although first I would like to flippantly wonder whether it might be worth installing one above our computer. Then I could get to use the thing occasionally.

That would be against whatever principles I still hold, however, as these are dreadful devices. So how cheering to hear the Co-op is to abandon using the Mosquito outside its stores, following a campaign by an autistic young man from Lancashire. Paul Brookfield, 19, says that as a teenager, he was always going to hear the noise, but his autism made it even worse. He described it as a "high-pitched whizzing, whirring".

The National Autistic Society has expressed its concern about the possible harmful effects of these teenage-dispersing machines on people with autism. The Co-op has listened, and all power to them.

No one would deny that congregations of teenagers sometimes cause problems outside shops. But for every trainee scrote there are countless more innocent teenagers who also have to endure the noise. Don't teenagers spend money too? Ours certainly seem to, when they have it.

This is typical of the paranoid way we treat teenagers in this country. All too often, we see them as a problem, as yobs or a possible threat, rather than as younger versions of ourselves. It's only a thought, but perhaps if we treat them as a problem, that's why they sometimes grow up to be one?

Anyway, here are some not entirely serious observations on the Mosquito. While this contraption is a bad thing to my mind, I began to wonder if it might not act as a symbol for what we hear and don't hear.

Downing Street has one fitted, attuned only to Gordon Brown's ears.

Every time he approaches that famous door, he hears a high-pitched whine of self-doubt saying: "Are you sure you're up to this?" Perhaps, even, it offers a shrill, almost imperceptible cry of Tony Blair saying: "Told you so."

David Cameron has a wind-powered, solar-assisted one above his door which emits a screech of self-praise. Not so much a Mosquito as a Butter(ing-up)fly. "One is doing wonderfully well, but don't blow it. And remember to smile broadly if anyone asks about policies."

Here in York, I fancy that there is one installed at the Barbican, which emits a high-pitched complaint heard only by Steve Galloway, saying: "Why won't everyone shut up about the bloody Barbican."

This, by the way, is only partly a satirical observation, because Steve said something similar last month in our "Five Minutes With" item on this very page. Come to think of it, people have shut up about the Barbican, which is a shame, because the whole affair still seems a disgrace.

Anyway, it occurs to me that I have one of these noise-emitting machines at home, above the television. If I accidentally turn on Britain's Got Talent, I'd Do Anything (not to watch), any show featuring the interchangeably annoying Ant or Dec, or any of those Simon Cowell programmes, a high-pitched noise - a screeching "No!" - goes off in my head.

To return to teenagers, teens have always gathered in groups and generally hung out. I recall my mother complaining about me joining the wrong sort of crowd outside the local Spar, or whatever. Perhaps it was a Co-op.

That phase passed, and here I am with three teenagers. The other day, the 14-year-old returned a little late from Homestead Park. She was hot, sweaty and smelt of the outdoors. Her fashionable white jeans were covered in grass stains. Her hair - which she saved up to have permed at quite a cost - was a glorious tangle.

This fashion-aware teen had been playing tag or something and "fighting" with her friends. Just like teens should.