The internet wants me to spend £500 on a jumper. How can I say no? | Emma Beddington

I I am dismayed to realize that around this time last year I wrote that my desire to acquire material goods had subsided somewhat: I was older and wiser, had everything I needed, I was repulsed by the sheer volume things in the world, blah blah blah. Unfortunately, the Internet seemed to take this as battle chatter, as a challenge that couldn’t be refused, and in recent months I’ve found myself wanting something again. Lots of things.

Perhaps this is not surprising: there is something everywhere, whispering or shouting to us from every screen we look at. “A constant stream of advertising on Instagram “tiring,” my best friend said gloomily just last week, and she’s right: I’m constantly bombarded with offers of miracle cures for my mature skin, wellness gadgets, expensive knitwear and green “destroyers” of almost everything. I just scrolled for a minute and was offered, in quick succession, “calf PRO” (no idea, alarmingly), kombucha, cleanser, eco-frying pan, “Celine-era Phoebe Philo-reminiscent” jumpers and, confusingly, the Canadian Sea . hedgehogs

In this a new era of lawlessness on social networks There are bigger problems than the relentless onslaught of targeted advertising, but in addition to urgently upgrading the critical reading skills the world needs, we need to figure out how to fight back against everything the Internet wants us to buy. If we don’t, we might, to give a random example, end up embarrassedly accepting delivery of the candy-colored bra we bought in a fugue state after seeing it 800 times a week on our phone. The bra will obviously be made from satsuma mesh and cling film and will provide absolutely no support to the wearer, instead it will fight tirelessly to move all of my – sorry, their – breast tissue to the armpits. It will be sent to landfill, where it will suffocate seabirds and then decompose into microplastics to poison generations of our descendants.

Reducing influence it is now a genre of online contentand the creators combat consumer culture by explaining how they’re happy with just a pair of sneakers and basic shampoo. This is admirable, but inevitably generic. The scale and detailed focus of the data-driven, algorithmically generated grievance industry is such that I think we need to take matters into our own hands. Because who better to take away your influence than yourself? The only person who knows your aspirations and weaknesses better than the almighty algorithm is you; only you can effectively combat this. I’ve been trying to reduce the impact on myself in recent weeks, and it’s been a real battle – I’m weak-willed and getting dumber by the minute because of internet nonsense, and the algorithm is tireless. But I have a secret weapon: I know my cowardly, ridiculous desires well, and this helps me suppress them. Now, when temptation arises, this is what I do. Like this:

The perfect reusable coffee cup: Let’s remember what happened to the last perfect reusable cup you bought: you left it on the bench on your second walk. Very environmentally friendly. Either way, you’re drinking too much coffee.

“Parallel“TTE” bars for rhythmic gymnastics: Do you really believe that you can teach your tired, wobbly body to do a handstand with these pieces of wood? You have a core that has been reduced to mince by the birth of two large babies and the strength of a sparrow’s shoulders. This is why TikTok shouldn’t allow anyone over 35 (except for those who want to understand very relevant concept of “delulu”).

£500 jumper with crow: You think you’ll look like Alexa Chung or Björk or some other quirky but chic style icon; you’ll look like Giles Brandreth. If you’re lucky.

“The last charger you’ll ever need to buy»: Can I rephrase? “The last charger you’ll need until you leave it on the train, like the previous three,” is more accurate.

Miracle Cleaner: Unless the miracle is that it actually comes out of the tube and applies itself, you won’t use it – you’re too lazy.

Breakthrough electric toothbrush “plant-based”: Remember that destructive plant-based deodorant you bought? It still chides you snidely from the bathroom drawer. Try to get really destructive No trustingly buying it.

It’s brutal, but, at least in my case, an absolutely necessary and almost constant job: Canadian sea urchins, rich and creamy, limited availability you say? Hm.

Emma Beddington is a Guardian columnist

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