Name: Looking.
Age: As old as eyes.
Status: Banned.
What? Are you saying that the simple act of looking has been banned? Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that. Shall I explain?
Yes, please. Are you either Nigel or Sheila Jacklin, from near Bexhill-on-Sea, East Sussex?
No. Good. You can look at anything you like until your eyes fall out, as far as I’m concerned.
Thanks. But what if I were Nigel or Sheila Jacklin from near Bexhill-on-Sea? Well, that’s the interesting point. Are you reading this on your own property, or somewhere near your neighbour’s lawn?
I’m not sure that makes any difference. Incorrect. Because if you’re Nigel or Sheila Jacklin from near Bexhill-on-Sea, the local council has just banned you from looking anywhere near your neighbour’s house.
Eh? That’s right. The Jacklins have been living in their house for 26 years. But five years ago, Dr Stephane Duckett and his partner Norinne Betjemann converted a nearby workshop into a holiday home. The couples fell out and, to cut a long story short, the Jacklins have been banned from looking at the holiday home.
What? They received a community protection warning letter from Rother district council warning them against foul language in the street and aggressive driving. The letter warned them about being “perceived … to be looking into any neighbour’s property”.
Good job I’m not Nigel or Sheila Jacklin, then. Yes. But do you work for Netflix?
What if I do? If you do, and you’re caught looking at a colleague for more than five seconds, you’ll get in to trouble.
Are you sure? Yes. It’s part of Netflix’s new anti-harassment training. Film crews are being warned against staring at co-workers, plus they can’t hug anyone or ask for anyone’s phone number or repeatedly ask anyone out.
That seems like a sensible reaction to #MeToo. But I love hugging work acquaintances and asking them out repeatedly, even though it irritates them and they always say no. This society is policing our eyeballs.
Hang on, are you drawing a parallel between training designed to stop systematic harassment in the entertainment industry and an argument between neighbours that’s spiralled out of control? Yes, I am. It’s political correctness gone potty. If I work for Netflix, I can’t be a creep. If I live next to someone I don’t like, I can’t stare or swear at them, or aggressively drive a car around them. What’s left for normal people to do?
You could try being nice. You are no fun.
Do say: “Luckily, you’re still allowed to look at the Guardian.”
Don’t say: “Actually, no, I’ve changed my mind. Go to prison.”
