Back in 1984 the arrest would have been done differently.
In those days the inmates followed a code of conduct that any idiot could understand. Break one of those rules and all that remained were those few seconds grace they allowed for the mad transgressor to stare at the computer and mutter stupidly to himself, "We are the dead". He got to repeat the line once more before the screen suddenly went dark and the iron voice everyone feared most barked out - "You are the dead". Then they came and dragged him away.
A quarter of a century later they've done away with the rigmarole. All that happens nowadays is the appearance of a polite note on screen saying - "account suspended". There's no explanation, no voice shouting at you from a hidden loudspeaker and no sign of those black-suited men from the Ministry of Love breaking down the door to make the arrest. It's all very civilised. And it's very different. Today, Mr O'Brien doesn't lock you up in his asylum - he locks you out!
The suspended nincompoop is summarily flung out of the cuckoo's nest head-first onto the cold pavement and the giant Forum doors are slammed shut in his face. Think about it. You're a typical Forum regular - mad as a fruitcake, almost certainly institutionalised, drug dependent with a need to regularly post poppycock, the wife/husband/partner might just as well be living abroad for the amount you speak to them, your friends only exist in print - and there are enemies galore queuing up to poke invective in the general direction of your laptop. It's a good job Forum addicts aren't quite normal else they'd all do something desperate to themselves - and some do.
Looking skywards from his lonely gutter, the newly-exiled addict often hears a twittering in the trees on the other side of the wall as some of the inmates - a bit like pigeons - look around and about and up and down and behind and across and forwards and backwards - and then realise via a garbled message from the pea which serves as their brain - that someone's not where he should be.
A few of the pigeons then squawk madly and flutter straight to their keyboards to create a new thread - shaking their claws at Mr O'Brien and demanding the immediate return of the 'missing one'. Some go off to study the rulebook and busy themselves posting theories as to why BB had seen fit to pull the plug on the sad offender - or why BB should show mercy and reinstate him. In another corner, a few of the most deeply troubled inmates attend evensong and sing out in praise of BB for his almighty wisdom in dealing harshly with all who offend, whilst others flap their wings in glee at seeing the back of a name they've always hated because he once said something vaguely nasty about them. And some are so sanctimoniously drenched in goodness that they shake knowing beaks in orchestrated disapproval - whilst taking the opportunity to confirm in print that the offending culprit wasn't part of their inner or outer personal dinner circle. But soon the hubbub dies down and the Forum returns to normality.
All alone with his guilt, the wretched outcast recollects spelling out a four letter word in an innocuous posting that same morning. It began with an eff and then a you, followed by a see and ended with a kay. But he hadn't aimed it at anyone. Then he googles the banned word - just to check if his was a lone voice - and is offered 176 million sites in which to ponder samples of its everyday use. But sadly it then occurs to him that the desperately humourless BB would be quite happy to offer anyone a free masterclass on how to shut a stable door some considerable while after the horse had bolted.
And anyway, he thought, as he read a posting from another pigeon in which quotes were used thus: I'm f***ed, you're f***ed, we're all f***ing f***ed! - what sort of a contradictory world is this when the pigeon who posted such a consummate example of immoderation was spared by the axeman and still lives to tell the tale?
He muses upon this. When a star replaces a letter but leaves an unambiguous impression of exactly which letter it stands for - is this not equally as offensive as putting the letter down in the first place? Or indeed, is it not - in its coyness and Forum-wise cowardice - actually very much more offensive. And isn't the Cuckoo's Nest saturated in such barely disguised illiterate obscenity? He makes a vow to never again swear in print on the Forum. But as he continues to contemplate all acts of censorship and the massive power wielded by O'Brien he realises - for the first time - that he has been thinking about, with certain knowledge, a member of the Thought Police.
It's at this point that the distraught exile buries his head in his hands and wrings his memory in the last hope of discovering in some dusty corner a shred of evidence that might explain why Mr O'Brien had become so deeply upset. As he does this and as he studies the Code of Conduct which demands everyone must post in their real name, it occurs to him with considerable irony, that had this been 1949 and had it been a certain D Cameron or E Miliband posting on some ancient Forum under the false name of George Orwell - at least that person would have known exactly what he'd done so wrong.
Thankfully, by the time it got to this stage, nothing mattered because the glorious moment of release had finally arrived. Which is a rather topsy-turvy way of saying he was being admitted back into the asylum. It had taken a long while and a great deal of corrective thought. But now, as two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose, he knew that everything would at last be alright. The struggle was over. He had learned how to love Big Brother - without telling him in public precisely what he fucking well thought of him.
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