Reality Bites - get an Ipod instead

The iPod, ubiquitous symbol of the post-millennial age, is wondrous in its ability to create a superior soundtrack to reality, or even to heighten your immediate environment. I recall one occasion when I stumbled around Manchester city centre one Sunday, bruised and vulnerable from the previous night's Rioja indulgence. At Whitworth Street however, as the red brick splendour of the industrial age unfolded before me to the sound of Nick Drake, I found myself in an insulating bubble away from weekend crowds and hungover paranoia. Bliss.

Of course, this soon burst at Market Street. Every city has a street like this one: the chain stores and dead-eyed stares of the slow-moving masses usually result in blind curmudgeonly rage and fear, as my iPod battles buskers proffering lift musak.

I like Selfridges though. Many times have I found sanctity from the horrors of Market Street in the bowels of the capitalist behemoth. From the ridiculously pretty (if slightly orange) girls of the make-up counter to the intimidatingly well-dressed shop assistants, it is a gleaming contemporary monument to materialistic aspiration. It seems to go remarkably well with the rakish decadence of Bowie's Station To Station album.

Walking home from Tesco however, it can be useful to play something a tad more high-octane as I move through the dodgy estates near where I live. A bit of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club perhaps, an adrenaline rush to stir me into a faux-Gallagher strut. This statement of Alpha-male intent helps ensure that delinquent youths don't stare me out as I stroll past, imagining they're intimidated by the impressive loads I'm carrying, despite the broccoli and bog roll bursting out of the carrier bags.

The uses are manifold then, though regrettably my ipod now only scrolls downwards and the headphone cord always loops out of my collar or beneath my jacket, somewhat compromising the desired look of urban nonchalance. These are minor gripes however, without an arsenal of mp3's I might be forced to face modern life (including, God forbid, bus journeys) in its unfettered actuality; it's too hideous to contemplate.