Think back to the year 2000. If you weren't alive then, try to imagine it. If you were, play Sisqó's Thong Song in your head and it'll all come flooding back.
We're talking huge, beige desktop towers humming under desks. The screech of trying to access dial-up internet. Websites that looked like mad ransom notes in garish colours and terrible fonts. The annoying bleep of a plasticky dumbphone that allowed you to call and text but little else. A home piled high with printed newspapers and magazines, CDs and vinyl records, DVDs and videotapes of your favourite TV shows.
