EyeLife

I’m starting to think it would be easier to have an EyeLife instead of a real one.

This week we bought an EyePet: one of the new PlayStation games released “just in time for Christmas”.

It’s the cutest thing on four megs, bounding animatedly around the screen with its pixilated eyes and electronic scampering sounds.

Feeding Scruffy is as simple as pressing a button, instead of forking out the equivalent of the national debt to buy a bag of Science Diet then gagging while cleaning up the mess in the backyard.

So I’ve asked Sony’s computer boffins to create a couple of EyeKids.

Picture this: you get up in the morning after a restful night’s sleep to see EyeJack and EyeSophie stretch their arms as the first rays of the EyeSun appear at the bottom of the plasma.

You click ‘X’ to feed them a nutritious breakfast and ‘O’ to dress them in perfectly pressed clothes, before kissing the screen and waving goodbye as they board the EyeBus for EyeSchool.

There’s no “I want toast instead of Weet-Bix!” or “Mummy, I’m wet! Someone must have weed in my bed last night!”

Then it’s time for breakfast with your EyePartner.

EyeBrad or EyeNicole is extremely good looking, in that botoxed shiny-skinned way, but the program allows you to insert a degree of humility, a sense of humour and a modicum of intellect.

You have a polite but interesting discussion about work, the kids, perhaps some politics, give the telly a nice, big hug and press the “Have a nice day!” button to send them off to EyeWork.

Now it’s time for your stimulating, well-paid and highly regarded EyeJob.

Your EyeColleagues appear on the screen, each one funny, clever and the best in their field.

Around the EyeWatercooler, you laugh about a Seinfeld repeat on Go! and begin to plan the EyeChristmas Party.

During set-up, you cannily placed your desk next to Mr or Miss Dreamy so, while your computer program takes care of the day’s work, you’re free to flirt, read magazines, email your friends and surf the net.

While you’re at work, your EyeCleaner does the housework while the EyeChef whips up canapés, twice-roasted duck and chocolate semifreddo with matching wines.

The best thing is, because it’s EyeFood and EyeGrog, you won’t put on any weight or have a hangover.

After dinner, EyeSex is a bit tricky.

There’s the small matter of sweat steaming up the circuit board and the very real possibility of an EyeBaby.

If this happens, don’t worry.

Your EyeBaby will be as easy to care for as the dog, with bottle-feeding, nappy changing and settling done via the handset.

So, in my letter to Sony, I wrote this: The men, women and children of Australia are sick of playing games.

What we want is a new life; a life without tears and heartache, irritations and aggravations.

A life we can be proud of.

A big, glossy, shiny EyeLife.