In 2024, no one needs another reminder they’re spending too much time on their phone; that the internet, and specifically social media, is designed by thousands of Silicon Valley geniuses to keep us scrolling, helpless pawns in the attention economy, blah blah blah. But let’s get granular: what are the worst ways to be in thrall to your small shiny rectangle and its big brother, the larger electronic rectangle? I asked about people’s most irresistible, life-consuming, pointless and occasionally poisonous internet rabbit holes. Then I tried to work out what they (and I) could do instead. 1. Laughing at cats Or dogs. Or marmosets. Or whatever the algorithm knows you self-soothe with for hours before bed. The infinite pit of internet animals being funny is existential balm, and as a person whose social media feed is 90% pygmy hippos and seagulls, I’m not here to judge. I’m just here to gently wonder if you could get comfort in other ways occasionally. Instead: Meet some real animals: the Cinnamon Trust is always looking for volunteers to help elderly and terminally ill people all around the UK look after their pets. The Dogs Trust and the RSPCA also have hands-on volunteering opportunities. 2. Ranters Manosphere nonsense-spouters, Farage fans, climate deniers … the laudable desire not to live in an echo chamber can shade all too quickly into feeling it’s somehow your “duty” to keep up with the rubbish people you disagree with are spouting. It isn’t and it will make you crazy. Instead: Deal with a different kind of rubbish: start litter picking. If it’s good enough for David Sedaris, it’s good enough for you. 3. Snooping on old friends and acquaintances Your primary school bestie, the classmate you fancied, the girl who never picked you in games, the guy with the cool fringe, or the one who got expelled in Year 7 … we’ve all been there, feverishly Googling. But if you track them down, will it prompt you to reconnect? Probably not. New research finds that people are no more willing to reach out to an old friend than they are to talk to a stranger or pick up rubbish. Instead: Do it. Study co-author Dr Gillian Sandstrom, from the University of Sussex, says: “People who pushed past their hesitation and reached out to an old friend reported feeling happier, and past research tells us that old friends appreciate it, even more than you expect.” Her research suggests a good way to get into the groove is by sending messages to current friends first. 4. Facebook marketplace People selling utter garbage (a single Ikea chair leg, a bag of used tinfoil or much worse) like it’s the holy grail. Negotiating techniques so cringey they could appear on The Apprentice. A near-universal inability to read or process basic information. Absurd lowballing. Ghosting. General horrible behaviour. A typical interaction: you create a listing. “Yellow kitchen sponge 10cm, yellow with green scouring pad, 10p.” “How long is the sponge?” someone asks five seconds after you post it. “10cm,” you reply swiftly and helpfully. “It is yellow, with a green scratchy bit. I want 10p for it.” Aeons pass. “Can I get it for free, my cat just died.” “10p, or make me an offer,” you counter. Civilisations rise and fall. Then, out of the blue, the same person. “What colour is the sponge and how long is it?” Rinse and repeat until the sun dies. I have vastly simplified how this usually goes down for space reasons. Yes, there’s the odd bargain and a few quid to be made, but at what (psychological) cost? Instead: Volunteer at – or just visit – a local charity shop. Bargains galore, and for a good cause. 5. ‘What I eat in a day’ I’ve watched a whispery influencer tell me “I’m a food writer in New York City and here’s what I ate last week” more times than I care to enumerate, usually with my other hand in a bag of Big Hoops. Don’t be like me. Instead: Read a food memoir. We’ll have to wait until September for Nigel Slater’s new one, A Thousand Feasts, but there’s lots of brilliant, intimate life-writing around food: gorge on the peerless Laurie Colwin’s Home Cooking and More Home Cooking, Michelle Zauner’s Crying in H Mart, Caroline Eden’s Cold Kitchen and Ella Risbridger’s The Year of Miracles, for starters. 6. Extreme cleaning People really love watching other people clean stuff. Filthy rugs get a startling number of votes in my informal poll, but so do patios, ears, floors, cars and pores; we just want to see the filth of the world washed away. Instead: I’m not going to suggest any serious real-life cleaning, but how about tackling your phone (or “hazardous microbial platform”)? Use a damp microfibre cloth, soap and water then dry it with another cloth; takes minutes and effectively removes bacteria. 7. Deep dives on bad takes Jon Favreau sums this up on his podcast, Offline: “Somebody did a bad tweet; I’d better go look at their profile and read all of their bad tweets and get mad about a tweet they did three months ago that was bad.” This is the epitome of looking for trouble. Do you just need to feel something, anything, other than your real feelings? What are you avoiding? Instead: Maybe it’s time to remind yourself how long you have on this incredible Earth and in your ordinary, extraordinary body and mind. It’s about 4,000 weeks, total, and you’ve probably already used a good chunk. Four Thousand Weeks is the title of Oliver Burkeman’s book on time management and distraction, our constant battle with our own worst impulses. “Social media is a giant machine for getting you to spend your time caring about the wrong things,” he writes, and this is the perfect example. You only have 4,000 weeks: do you really want to spend a minute of that getting angry about what a shitposting possible robot says about immigration? Go and talk to a person you actually like, and read Burkeman’s book if you need more inspiration. 8. ‘What was he in again?’ “I Google an actor in a film and then his wife, and then her home town and then crimes in that home town and then the criminals, their crimes, then films based on those crimes …” one black belt in scrolling explains. Instead: Put 50p in a jar every time you feel the urge to hit IMDb and resist. The answer you’re searching for will probably come back to you anyway and soon you’ll have enough to buy yourself a theatre ticket to go and see real actors in the flesh. You’ll have the same problem there, but you can probably work it out by treating yourself to a programme. 9. Parenting: you’re doing it wrong You’d think the parents of young children would be too tired to create content about how superior their way of doing everything is. Unfortunately not: people have an opinion about every birth, feeding, play, education, sleep decision you might make for your child. Whether you hang out on Mumsnet, or in attachment parenting groups, sleep training forums, gentle parenting gurus’ feeds or in the comments beneath mumfluencer posts, it’s a world of judgmental pain. Instead: Ask an older friend or relative about their birth or parenting experiences; it will definitely be eye-opening (Enemas! Smacking!), and you might even find yourself relieved you are parenting in the internet age. 10. Stalking an ex “As I feel the 3pm drag of an afternoon slump, I devolve into my inner worm, wriggling into a blanket with a tasty apple, the name of a former boyfriend from 10 years ago, a big old search bar and: bliss.” So writes Harriet Gibsone of her compulsive, highly skilled romantic cyber-investigation, taking in everything from old flames’ Spotify playlists to “browsing through 16 photos of cabbage and spade selfies taken on their new allotment alongside a ruddy-faced new fiancee”. If the best revenge is living well, this is not the way to do it. Instead: Read Gibsone’s painfully, brilliantly relatable memoir, Is This OK?, detailing her cyber-obsessions. She quit; so could you. 11. Musical dilettantism “Hours and hours researching a new musical genre, never to purchase anything from said genre,” confesses one rabbit-holer. “I like going through threads on “what’s your favourite song in XX genre / XX mood / for XX occasion” and adding them to my Spotify playlists. This takes ages. I now have more songs than I could ever listen to,” says another. Instead: Have you considered … going to a gig? 12. A deep dive on a stranger’s life Your paths momentarily cross, somehow – IRL, or online – you Google them, then fall into a fugue state from which you emerge, dazed and ashamed some hours later, to find yourself checking out their sister’s ex-girlfriend’s 2014 Southend swing dance camp photos. Instead: Don’t stalk a stranger, talk to one. Sandstrom also researches stranger interactions and says they can benefit you, the stranger and society as a whole: “It makes us more trusting of other people, which probably makes our world feel a little less scary.” Her research has also shown that despite our natural reticence, when we do make the effort, conversations with strangers go better than we expect. “Not just a little bit, either – it was a huge effect.” Sandstrom practises what she preaches all the time, and her ice-breaking tips include the classic comment on the weather, or to “Tap into your curiosity and observational skills; eg, comment on their earrings or ask: ‘Whatcha doing?’” 13. Endless ASMR Whispering, stroking, folding, tapping … there’s an obscure sound or action for all tastes, even though we’re not really clear why they appeal. I have this theory that the variety of ASMR that appeals to you is indicative of your deeper psychological issues. “Restocking”: there is a deep void at the heart of your being that can never be filled. Organising and cleaning: the inside of your head is an anarchic bin fire. Things being crushed: you are profoundly angry but unable to express it healthily. Instead: Get some bubble-wrap. 14. Envy scrolling “Looking at every single thing a well-dressed influencer is wearing and wishing I could spend £8k on a beautiful dress, then getting sucked into the vortex of their perfect lives and hating myself,” suggests someone. We all have a version of this: mine is owners of exquisitely restored Georgian mansions, the bastards. Instead: When you’re tempted to wallow in someone else’s good fortune, consider what you’d like to improve in your own life. “Most of my clients have a strong desire to make a change – take more exercise, read more, sleep more, spend more time with their kids/partner/dog/lover …” says Hilda Burke, psychotherapist, couples counsellor and author of The Phone Addiction Workbook. “Surely some of the time we’re scrolling, clicking and swiping could be reassigned into those activities? Try creating an ‘inspiring screensaver’ – a visual reminder of what you really want to be doing with the time you’re frittering away on your phone.” For Burke, that’s her rescue greyhound, Bran. 15. Pretending to exercise “I watch yoga videos and think: I must learn to do that – but I never will because all I do is stare at this godforsaken screen!” says one phone potato. Ice-skating exploits, professional ballet dancers sharing their grands jetés, athletic goal compilations … All this energetic stuff is another reason to stay sedentary and scroll. I watch tutorials on how to do the splits, even though I couldn’t do the splits as an eight-year-old gymnast and I’m certainly not going to try now. Instead: Passive consumption of exercise content does not count towards your recommended 150 minutes a week. I’m sorry, but like your mum on a boring pre-internet Sunday, I’m going to suggest you go for a walk. 16. Food tourism Adventurous youths, eating adventurous foods in places you will never go. You don’t actually want to hitchhike round Kyrgyzstan or try intestine pancakes, but you lap it up, feeling twinges of obscure Fomo. Instead: Buy a jar of that delicious chilli oil with crispy bits and put a dollop on your dinner. Edgy! 17. Looking at houses you can’t afford Writer Sophie Heawood, the undisputed queen of Rightmove, has made a Substack of her property rabbit-hole finds, so she can call this work, sort of. “Most people get hooked on property portals like Rightmove to see what they’d buy if they won the lottery,” she says. “But there’s a whole other pleasure in seeing what you could afford if you abandoned your family and job to live on a floodplain overlooking a layby on the M62. Just me? Oh.” Instead: Unfortunately, Heawood had no suggestions of how to go Rightmove cold turkey. “Sometimes I go directly from Rightmove to the national lottery website, if that helps?” It doesn’t. I find walking the streets, gawping at people’s houses and passing judgment on their decor a marginally healthier alternative. 18. Nextdoor rage “When neighbours start talking good things happen” is Nextdoor’s slogan, but what happens on mine is a photo of some dog poo on a doorstep six streets away; “suspicious” characters “loitering”; whose cat is this/my cat is missing (never the same cat); “yobs” vaping in the children’s playground; “inconsiderate” parking; “disgraceful” litter. Soon you’ll find yourself getting angry about a problem (or arguably non-problem) you didn’t even know existed five minutes ago. Do you need this unvarnished insight into your neighbours’ indignant psyches? Instead: People come across much worse online than in the flesh generally, so get local gossip IRL by signing up for your local Repair Cafe or other community group. My husband volunteers at one and always comes home with titbits of wholesome neighbourhood tea. 19. Life hacks Beauty, tech, finance, craft, cleaning, home renovation – “So many fantastically clever ideas that I will never, ever use,” as one avid consumer puts it. We’re all pursuing self-optimisation and efficiency but we’d be a lot more efficient if we just … put our phones down. Instead: My hack for you: block the hashtags #hack #lifehack #tip, etc, on Instagram or TikTok. 20. Tracking your nemesis You feel you need to keep tabs on your professional rival, university frenemy or former colleague whose career went stratospheric, but every “big news coming” vaguepost, group shot with glossy friends in an impossible-to-book restaurant or #bliss Maldives holiday snap you scroll feverishly through is a dagger in your heart. Instead: How about writing a pen and paper list of what you’re proud of and what you’ve most enjoyed in the past year? It might feel a bit cringey, but you’ll probably find there’s plenty to envy on there too. Just don’t choose violence and decide to post an artful pic of the list on Instagram. 21. Treasure hunting on Vinted or Depop Vinted years are like dog years – I age seven times faster every time I open the app looking for cheap trainers. It’s full of people who think Y2K combat trousers are fragile, precious antiques. Messaging a seller is dipping your toe into a Beckettian world of weirdness with extra kisses; just check out the @dmdrama Instagram account (don’t! It’s another rabbit hole!). Instead: Go to a clothing swap. Alternatively, try engaging a teenager in conversation for a similarly discombobulating experience. 22. Overambitious recipes It doesn’t matter how “quick” “delicious” or “insanely easy” the enthusiastic creator says it is: you’ll never cook it. Instead: Make toast. It’s possible you’ve forgotten how delicious toast is. 23. Tradwives You know the kind of thing: milk in glass pitchers, lots of Christ, a strong, absent husband tending to the land and absolutely ludicrous from-scratch recipes. “My kids really wanted blueberry pancakes, so I started by planting a blueberry bush and harvesting some of our wheat.” You come for the sourdough starter, but four videos in, they’re arguing contraception and vaccination are “unnatural”. The slipperiest of slopes. Instead: Grow some radishes. They work well in a window box or pot, a packet of seeds costs about a quid and you can pretend you’re wholesomely living off the land as you fight off the local pigeons to harvest your crop. 24. Trying to understand something you’ve watched “I must have spent about three hours looking at timelines, explanations, character chronologies, diagrams and interactive graphical family trees,” says one poor bewildered soul. I don’t have a problem with this activity as a one-off, but how many hours of your life does a Twin Peaks or Dark forum deserve? Instead: Try a sudoku? A crossword? An MSc in cryptography? 25. Browsing auction sites for ‘hidden gems’ You’ve watched too much Antiques Roadshow and thought you could find a Turner or at least a Clarice Cliff teapot no one else has spotted in an online auction. But then you look up and realise you’ve spent the past three hours scrolling, enlarging and poring over, possibly even bidding on, cardboard boxes of miscellaneous tat and Royal Doulton figurines of woodland animals. Instead: Go to a car boot sale. Same junk, with added vitamin D and exercise. 26. Following controversies you don’t care about Are electric cars good or bad? Is negative reinforcement training of birds of prey wrong? Does leaving the loo seat up when you flush give you acne? You have no dog in these fights, but are vampirically drawn to reading other people’s arguments. You’re online rubbernecking, eavesdropping on a discussion that has nothing to do with you. Instead: Download the miraculous Merlin app and become obsessed with a different kind of outdoor chatter: birdsong. There’s plenty of fighting, too, but it’s much more melodious and you’ll need to go outside to listen to it. 27. Really weird stuff No, not sex stuff, weirder than that. Some internet rabbit holes are single occupancy and I have spoken to their shamefaced inhabitants. “Fatal shark attacks since the 1800s. I’m landlocked, I have no idea where this is coming from.” “Large ships misjudging their stopping distance and ploughing into bridges or ports … a phobia and an obsession; a YouTube adrenalin shot.” “Watching dog groomers. I don’t own a dog.” “Luxury watch forums. Sometimes they say things like, ‘What are we all wearing today?’, then it’s 60 pictures of hairy arms with watches, and in the background a leather car interior or a bit of private jet. All the watches mean nothing to me. They all look like … a watch?” Instead: I have nothing whatsoever to suggest for these poor lost souls; I merely offer them to you as proof it could all be much, much worse.