Google reveals who we really are. And it's not pretty
Who, as the High Court judge in the anecdote might say, is Miss Kim Kardashian? Well, this is not one of those columns where someone tries to prove their superiority by not knowing who the stars of popular culture are.
One sort-of-knows. She was on the telly in a documentary about her family. She has a number of sisters, one called, unforgettably, Khloe. I wouldn't swear to be able to recognise her. But that hardly matters. Because these days, you can Google her.
Google made the shortest proprietary-name-to-verb journey in history. According to the OED, it took 12 years from the registering of the Hoover in 1927 before someone said in print, "I was Hoovering my passageway" (Noel Streatfeild, as it happens) and a little longer before it lost the proprietary capital letter.
Google was launched in September 1998 and by October 1999 someone was writing "Has anyone Googled?" on a messageboard.
Three months later, in January 2000, it had lost its capital letter and become a transitive verb.
Possibly the English language could cope with the task that Google carries out, but "to google" is more specific. "To google" is not quite to research, or to find something out: it is more like "to find", or "to be reminded".
And, every year, the company releases a list of the most popular topics searched for by its users in every country. The one bright spot we garner from this grim list is that it suggests women have an equal, or superior, claim on the attention of the British to men.
Who are we interested in? Nicki Minaj, Darren Criss, Ed Sheeran, Rebecca Black, Megan Fox, Jessica Jane, Randy Savage. What do we want to discover? We asked what is, or are, "AV, scampi, truffles and piles". Do we want to improve our lives? We asked Google how to revise, snog, reference, wallpaper, draw, sleep and flirt.
We've been handed an information resource beyond the wildest imagination of any previous generation. Do we know what to do with it? Look on the list of searches. And despair.
Faced with this depressing insight into our collective curiosity, I must say that I care a good deal less about the figures about European internet access released this week by Eurostat, the EU's statistical agency.
More than 100 million people in the EU - around a quarter of its population - have never used the internet. The division is sharp between the richer north, such as Sweden and Denmark, with access rates of more than 90%, and the poorer south, such as Romania, where around 54% of the population has never used the internet.
It doesn't surprise me at all. Plenty of people don't find much use for the internet. My own mother, she tells me, has never found any reason to do so.
If she wants to find something out, she'll look it up in the dictionary, or the Children's Britannica, the wonderful 20-volume reference work which has been the go-to place for everything factual in our family for 40 years now. Is this what every great liberation of information discovers: that the base or foolish aspect of human nature appears to triumph over all else?
When the Berlin Wall came down, we talked about freedom dawning across Europe: one of the abiding memories of that time is of East Berliners going with amazement into the West Berlin sex-shops.
When information liberation comes to that 54% of Romanians, or the hundreds of millions worldwide in a position of similar ignorance, we needn't expect the result to be an improvement in their lives or minds.
We have seen the future and it looks like billions of people typing the name "Kim Kardashian" into a search engine, over and over again, and dimly chortling.