QR codes, those blocky, black and white symbols that appear on printed adverts and look like the results of blindfolded knitting, are becoming more widespread; one American survey recently noted a 400 percent increase in their appearances in magazines over the past 12 months.
The idea is that snapping the QR code with your phone's camera will instantly take you to a website with further information about that product, service, album or film.
But aside from a single exploratory snap I made when first writing about QR codes for this newspaper a couple of years ago, I've never used them - and I'm not the only one.
It's supposedly a one-click “information solution”, but in reality it's a drag: you have to launch the barcode reading app, wait for the cameras to focus, keep a steady hand, snap the picture, hope the image is clear, and then keep your fingers crossed that you've got an stable enough internet connection. You're probably better off memorising a URL - or, God forbid, writing it down. But QR codes do have their uses.
There are virtual supermarkets at stations in South Korea with pictures of goods each appended with a QR code; just snap the products you want and they're delivered to your home within hours.
But aside from it being a clumsy means to an end (one commentator described it as like putting roller skates on a horse) it's a system that's obviously ripe for mischief. Stick your own codes over existing ones and you can easily transport the unwitting snapper to a website of your choice.
This was beautifully demonstrated the other week at a football match in Turkey, where fans of Karsiyaka FC made a banner with a QR code on it. When the opposing fans of Goztepe FC took pictures they were immediately transported to a website informing them that they were “sons of bitches”, providing not only a good laugh for Karsijaka fans, but also one of the best headlines I've seen for a while: “QR Ya? QR Ya?” - The Independent