What gives with Twitter? Over the past week it's suddenly been all over the media. Much to my amusement they had a Celebrity Twitterers feature in the Mirror last week. One of the so-called celebs was Will Carling. Now by all means Twitter if that's your thang but at least have the gall to put something interesting on there. One of Carling's entries was 'Taking the dog out'. Phew, the life of an ex-England rugby captain and Royal adulterer, eh? I don't know how he copes.
A lot of this has come about because Stephen Fry is a compulsive Twitterer. Why, only this week he was trapped in a lift and Twittered on about it to the 750 million people who follow him on Twitter. Now I'm not good in a crisis involving myself, I tend to panic. And although I'm not a lift-phobic, I do have a sense of relief when the bell goes, the doors open and I can step out of one. So the last thing I'm going to do if I'm trapped in a lift is to start Twittering (besides, I have an internet-enabled phone, but don't ask me how to access the internet on it). In reality, what would happen to me is that I'd be crying and pissing myself so much the lift would gradually fill up with water so that only my head would be exposed at the top of the lift carriage, like in a disaster film.
And why would you want to follow the minutiae of someone's life like that? You might as well move in with them.
Things came to a head last night when my preferred Forest blogger announced that he was going to Twitter match updates from the stands. When I go to football I go to watch the match and have a laugh with my mates. Not to stand there staring into a mobile phone all night Twittering. Mind you, I'd have loved to see some of last night's entries after half time, probably something like "Oh God, I'm going to jump off Trent Bridge if Kris Commons scores" leading on to "Oh shit, goodbye cruel world..."
And what if nobody wants to follow you on Twitter? How depressed would you be? Who the hell would be interested in what I've got to say:
07.00 Got up for a shit, shave, shower and shampoo
07.15 Preparing porridge.
08.00 Having a lazy wank
08.15 Watching Freshly Squeezed on Channel 4 Plus One
09.30 Watching To Buy or Not to Buy
10.00 Having a lazy wank
12.00 Preparing dinner. Heinz Ravioli on toast I think
See? How mundane is that? Let's have a little straw poll, who'd follow me on Twitter? I bet nobody. Anyway, I'm a Faceberk man, and going on Twitter would be like sleeping with your best mate's missus.
A lot of this has come about because Stephen Fry is a compulsive Twitterer. Why, only this week he was trapped in a lift and Twittered on about it to the 750 million people who follow him on Twitter. Now I'm not good in a crisis involving myself, I tend to panic. And although I'm not a lift-phobic, I do have a sense of relief when the bell goes, the doors open and I can step out of one. So the last thing I'm going to do if I'm trapped in a lift is to start Twittering (besides, I have an internet-enabled phone, but don't ask me how to access the internet on it). In reality, what would happen to me is that I'd be crying and pissing myself so much the lift would gradually fill up with water so that only my head would be exposed at the top of the lift carriage, like in a disaster film.
And why would you want to follow the minutiae of someone's life like that? You might as well move in with them.
Things came to a head last night when my preferred Forest blogger announced that he was going to Twitter match updates from the stands. When I go to football I go to watch the match and have a laugh with my mates. Not to stand there staring into a mobile phone all night Twittering. Mind you, I'd have loved to see some of last night's entries after half time, probably something like "Oh God, I'm going to jump off Trent Bridge if Kris Commons scores" leading on to "Oh shit, goodbye cruel world..."
And what if nobody wants to follow you on Twitter? How depressed would you be? Who the hell would be interested in what I've got to say:
07.00 Got up for a shit, shave, shower and shampoo
07.15 Preparing porridge.
08.00 Having a lazy wank
08.15 Watching Freshly Squeezed on Channel 4 Plus One
09.30 Watching To Buy or Not to Buy
10.00 Having a lazy wank
12.00 Preparing dinner. Heinz Ravioli on toast I think
See? How mundane is that? Let's have a little straw poll, who'd follow me on Twitter? I bet nobody. Anyway, I'm a Faceberk man, and going on Twitter would be like sleeping with your best mate's missus.
7 comments:
"To Buy or Not To Buy" is obviously a lot racier than I thought it was.
And what the devil are you putting in your porridge? Ginseng?
*Makes mental note to pitch idea to Scott's Porage Oats*
With you on this. I'm only on Twitter because of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out), but who bloody cares? My updates today would have been so dull, apart from 'wonder if men and women can be friends, or does sex always get in the way?'.
I am as enraptured by Twitter as I am petrified by Facebook, hence why I'm on the former and not the latter.
Can I just say that the masturbating bit of that post was, of course, entirely fictional.
I'll get me coat...
Good to see nobody's voted on my poll yet, which just shows my theory about being depressed by how many people follow you will no doubt make you suicidal is correct.
I don't Twitter. It's a bit of technology too far. I can just about stomach Facebook about once a month, but Twittering? No.
I had a recent pub evenign where one of the attendees twittered what was going on to the outside world and never really got to speak himself. It was the focus of the evening and pretty damn annoying, mainly to me. I don't think we'll be doing that again.
I've started Twittering and it's like a mini Blog. I guess it's for people with limited vocabulary or text speakers. I prefer rambling 500 word rants about Fife Council.
Tried Facebook - hated it, for people with way too much time on their hands. Tried Bebo - hated it, it's for bairns. Went back to MySpace but only to download music from my favourite artists.
BA, Where's this poll you're going on about? I'll off for a look.
Clair, It ALWAYS get in the way.
It's on the top right of the header page.
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