Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ll be at least vaguely aware that Pinterest is an image-sharing and social media service that’s designed to facilitate the saving and discovery of information and ideas in the form of images and – to a lesser extent – animated GIFs and videos.

If you’ve never sampled the delights of Pinterest.com or the Pinterest app on your smartphone or tablet … DON’T! Well, maybe do, but do so with care. The problem is that this site/app is another time sinkhole like YouTube – once you’ve dipped your toes in the Pinterest waters, it’s hard to prevent yourself from throwing caution to the winds and plunging headfirst into the fray with gusto and abandon.

One problem is that the site keeps on sending you notifications along the lines of, “You might be interested in…” and “We’ve found…” and they quickly grow to know your hot buttons until they are playing you like a fiddle (which is much better than them playing you like a hurdy-gurdy, let me tell you).

Another issue is that there are significantly more adverts buried amongst the regular images than there used to be. The problem here is that many of these adverts make me say “Oooh, Shiny!” For example, even though I didn’t even know they existed until today, I find myself sorely tempted by the idea of a set of Retractable Vampire Teeth (see also these gnashers on Amazon).

Similarly, I never knew how much I missed having a Full-Size Terminator standing in the hallway to “greet” people at the door until I saw this little rascal, which led me to the Scrap-Metal-Art-Thailand.com website.

Who wouldn’t be tempted to ride a giant robot chicken? (Click image to see a larger version — Image source: Pinterest)

But the one thing I now desire above all else is a Giant Robot Chicken (and that’s not something you expect to hear yourself say every day). Of course, this would mean that there would no longer be room for my son (Joseph the Commonsense Challenged) to keep his car in the garage, but that’s a sacrifice I’m prepared to make.

Who amongst our number wouldn’t want to ride this bodacious beauty? If I close my eyes as I type these words, we end up with something that looks like jdgd abnhf kdhdjr ghhggf, so it may be best if I keep them open. Even so, I can almost feel the wind whistling through my hair as I race down the highways and byways astride my giant robot chicken on a hot summer’s day (once again, this is not something you expect to hear yourself say too often).

For some reason, I’m now envisaging the Mad Max movies, which are set in a post-apocalyptic Australia. Some of the chase scenes involve an esoteric collection of improbably modified vehicles packed with people you probably wouldn’t wish to invite to afternoon tea with your mother (in case her language was too salty for their taste).

Now I’m re-imagining the chase scenes with the fictional Mad Max in front and the pack of raucous reprobates close behind. Then, suddenly, with a fanfare of metaphorical sarrusophones (which is much more impressive than the other kind), I come up from the rear and overtake everyone riding my giant robot chicken. As I disappear into the sunset leaving them eating my dust, the other vehicles come to a grinding halt, and the camera zooms in on the leader of the pursuers who utters the immortal words, “Who was that Masked Max?”