DO you get twitter? And yes, I realise that’s a strange question to be asking when I’m using the site to publicise this blog. However, I have to ask the question again – do you get twitter?
You see, I tweet sort of regularly, but only to impart nuggets of information. I’ll mention the guests on my 103.6FM Tameside Radio programme, or reveal some development in the weird and wacky world of non-league football. But I don’t conduct conversations or tell the inhabitants of cyber space what colour underwear I’ve got on or what I’m listening to. Maybe it’s because I can’t afford a smartphone and so don’t have the opportunity to tweet at every juncture.
Leading the exciting life that I do, I’ve just spent half-an-hour or so perusing various people’s contributions to twitter. It’s sort of riveting yet utterly banal at the same time.
For a start, it’s surprising how many people in responsible jobs feel the need to advertise their love of alcohol. I’m not sure that I’ll sleep more safely in my bed knowing that an air-traffic controller or medical professional has a particular liking for peach schnapps or alcopops. I’d prefer it if they focused on rather more sober pursuits.
And you see, this is my point: do these people who feel the need to broadcast every little fact about themselves realise that anyone in the entire world could be reading? I have visions of men tweeting about their affairs – “just been round to Gertrude’s to do the business” – without every considering that their wife might pick it up. Has a criminal ever bragged on twitter and then been arrested by the police?
Some of it’s plain crackers. Why would you intersperse tweets about being on a diet with others about the amount of cake you’re eating? Why would you want the world to know you’re drunk? I read one tweet which urged a woman to cheer up by eating a sausage butty. You can take that two ways.
Ultimately, who the hell cares if you’re having coconut cake for tea or have bought some new shoe polish? None of the people I know would give a monkey’s if I tweeted that I been to the shops or had narrowly escaped being run down by a pavement cyclist (don’t get me started on that one and the way they ride through red lights).
That’s why I’ve never set up a Facebook page. Who the hell cares what I do? From a personal point of view, I have absolutely no interest in where my friends go on holiday, or in seeing their photos. I mean, be honest, whenever you look at someone’s holiday snaps you do it to be polite, not because you want to. The 14th picture of the Lost Gardens of Penhaligon comes along and I want to top myself. Remember slides? I hated them, too.
So no, I suppose I don’t get twitter. Perhaps I’m just too old. Perhaps I’ve got better things to do. But for the record, I’m now going to brew up with a Sainsbury’s Assam tea bag and then spend an hour writing a little more of my history of Hyde (United). After that, I might try to get a life.