
The Government says it’s protecting kids online, but half the time it feels like they’re just shouting “Be careful!” into the Wi‑Fi.
It’s not safe for children online,” says the NCA — which is the policing equivalent of your smoke alarm screaming while the Government calmly waves a tea towel at the toaster.
Britain’s FBI says we’ve already failed two generations — which is the policing equivalent of a teacher sending home a report card that just says “See me.”
Labour having 200 meetings with Silicon Valley in two years? At this point they’ve got more loyalty points with Big Tech than I’ve got with Tesco Clubcard.
Officials meet Google, Apple, Amazon, Meta and Microsoft so often they might as well have been issued staff passes and a spot in the car park.
The Government is not doing enough to protect children online. That’s not my opinion; that’s the conclusion you get when you line up what the NCA, child‑protection charities, police forces, and online‑safety researchers are all shouting at Westminster.
Kids have so much internet freedom these days they’re practically doing laps around cyberspace like it’s recess, while the adults are still trying to remember the Wi‑Fi password.
Unless it’s homework, kids shouldn’t be online — and if they are, a parent should be hovering like a hawk with a cup of tea and the Wi‑Fi password held hostage.
There are so many predators online these days that kids practically need a security escort just to open Google, and the bullying? Half their classmates are running side‑hustles as part‑time trolls.
Some parents don’t give their kids a phone; they practically issue it like a boarding pass: “Here you go, love — unlimited internet access so Mummy can finish her cuppa.”
This isn’t the cosy world we grew up in — it’s a digital wild west, and we’ve got to protect our kids like they’re carrying the Crown Jewels.
When the creators of the digital age won’t let their own kids online, that’s basically the tech equivalent of a chef refusing to eat his own cooking. If they don’t trust it, why on earth should we?
It’s dangerous out there — everyone’s watching, everyone’s tracking, and the algorithms know your child’s favourite snack before you do.
We’ve become invisible — you could shout “Fire!” in the high street, and everyone would still be staring at their phones like it’s the only language they understand.
Put down your phone, put down your tablet, close your laptop — and for Christ’s sake, have a real conversation with someone. You’ll be shocked how nice it feels, and how much you’ve been missing.