Valentine's Day turned me into another number. "Chip and pin, sir?" smiled jolly Janet at Asda.

Of course, I've always been a number - ZY with eight digits ending in D.

National Insurance aside, my bank, and many other institutions, know me as sets of digits plus my mother's maiden name ("for security, sir").

Now, they're after bar-coding my biometrics.

Creeping control by numbers bothers me, and I fear the 51 personal facts on my ID card being touted about Europe.

Grumpy-old-man syndrome bites at the billions IDs will cost, and the £1,000 fine if I forget to tell Big Brother I've moved house.

Nor will ID cards quell terrorists.

Apparently, 75per cent use their own name when blowing us up, and do it mainly in countries with national ID cards.

Then there are the digits that'll prefix my own - 666.

That's the code access for world banking. It figures in every bar code in the world (the three long lines). It's all over the internet. The Bible calls it the Mark of the Beast, without which nobody can trade.

I used to smile at such end-of-the-world scenarios. And yet, so far, 92per cent of Biblical prophecies have been spot on.

The other 18per cent have yet to happen and deal with God's end-time plans.

Silly me! End-of-the-world nonsense! Whatever next? Still, the day they bar code me, I'll wonder.