Peter Bromhead: Under Google's gaze

When my child curiously asked over breakfast, "Dad, do flies stretch their legs when they wake up in the morning?" I could only purse my lips while deliberating over the answer.

Before I had my eyes rejuvenated with laser surgery, I would have automatically pretended there was an above-average intellect at work by removing my horn-rimmed spectacles and thoughtfully cleaning the lenses, allowing me time to dream up a fanciful answer.

Naturally, I haven't a clue whether flies stretch anything upon waking, nor do I particularly care, but as a dutiful father I immediately turned to Google to enlighten me.

According to an entomologist, ants stretch their legs upon waking and even appear to yawn, but nothing on flies is recorded.

Horses apparently stretch a leg when bored and vultures have been observed to stretch their necks in oppressive heat.

It's a shame my son didn't ask me about North American honey bees, seriously afflicted by a parasite that forces the poor infected insect to continually stretch its legs before it inevitably deteriorates into some sort of zombie and dies.

More daunting for this old codger is the fact that, by asking Google for information on "Do flies stretch their legs?", I gave the master of all knowledge the opportunity to download heaps of stuff on the dangers of long-distance flying, stretching legs and the high risk of blood clots for the elderly.

Now when I flick on to various international sites I'm bombarded with advertisements for compression stockings and where to go for deep-vein laser surgery.

Once Google's marketing locks on to you there appears to be no escape from merchandising missiles.

I tried calling the corporation and finally managed to talk to a company representative about the problem.

I could tell I was speaking to someone far away, probably not in Palo Alto, California, but somewhere even more mythological, like a monastery in Shangri La.

When I asked if he was based in a hidden valley somewhere in the remotest part of Tibet, he remained polite but non-committal.

Like all Americans trained to deal with irrational, gibbering customers, he promised to rectify my problems, soothingly assuring me that everyone had my best interests at heart.

A week later the same ads still appear, plus, surprisingly, new ones for extra large shoes.

I'm mystified how Google knows I've got dinner-plate size 15 feet - just by talking on the phone.