There are whispers that boffins in China have been burning some overtime to find ways into Australia’s computer data systems.

National security is a big deal and if you’re smart enough to throw a country’s entire economy into a spin for a day, then you’re a clever cookie – wherever you come from.

Maybe there’s a room full of computers somewhere where Oompa Loompa-like tech-heads are wrapping presents or whatever it is groups of mythical societies do this time of year.

They’re possibly sitting in the depths of a building in Beijing trawling for ways to inconvenience minnow nations whose prime ministers have said annoying things about their regime, its politics and a suspect human rights record.

But I doubt the directive is coming from the top.

You’ve got to think their president Xi Jinping has better things to do with his time.

You’ve also got to question what benefit there is for one of the world’s superpowers to be hacking our phone systems, stealing our data and who knows, maybe they’ve got little maps tracking our every step.

I could see that siphoning funds from the national bank might be useful, or insights into our latest submarine capabilities.

But a bunch of emails?

The hacking culprits are more likely a group of pimple-faced gamers who’ve learned that it’s more fun to watch governments hold press conferences denouncing their work than it is to spend all day blowing up zombies on a PlayStation.

They can sell the email addresses to spam-bots, have a good laugh at those who stand in front of a microphone claiming we’ve all been violated, and move onto their next unsuspecting victim.

Cybercrime is a menace. But I’m hoping it’s not yet the next World War.

I have friends who say they’re scared by it all.

Might I say some of them in their 80s who should be worrying more about walking in the park tomorrow than whether their Google Nest is sending pictures of them in their Y-fronts to a hard-drive on the other side of the world.

Personally, I quite frankly don’t give two shakes of a tail feather how much they know about me.

If they haven’t already, they’ll quickly realise how boring I am, at which point they’ll move onto the couple down the road who has a reputation for attending parties where they do weird things with their car keys.

They’ll jump into my records with the local authorities to find I’m late with my registration payments for Wags.

They’ll scroll through my Medicare to find the results of a mis-spent youth, a broken arm as a teenager, and a dodgy prostate in my later years.

They’ll see I’m married to Wanda, that I’m a member of various clubs and maybe they’ll agree that my year as publicity officer for the bowls club was a disaster that said more about the president than it did about my public relations skills.

Even if they do have access to pictures from our living room, they’ll probably see some souvenir trinkets from recent holidays.

Near bed time, they’ll see that my favourite attire is a loose fitting pair of underpants and a singlet Wanda has tried to dispose of multiple times.

You see, there are lots of things to worry about in life – your health, your loved ones, and in our case, Wags rates a worthy mention.

Low on the list is whether people in foreign lands are accessing my data. I’ll leave it to the banks to keep paying my super, the government to protect our shores, and profit-making multinationals to look after themselves.

Hey Wanda, let’s ask Google some dodgy questions about people who don’t exist. That’ll throw them off their scent for sure.

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