I’m a self-confessed Twitter geek, to the point that “Just one more game” – the catchphrase of a Champman generation has now become “Just one more Tweet” (to be fair I’m alt+tabbing between Tweetdeck and FM2012 but that’s not the point). In fact, I’ve become so obsessed with twitter, that when I go shopping with my girlfriend, I’ll tweet updates whilst she’s in the changing room. Generally it results in a pretty good conversation with other guys who have been in similar positions and who, like me were blown away by the boyfriending abilities of one fellow shopper who said to his girlfriend “You know, they both looked amazing on you, but I prefer the green one, it brings out your eyes” – clearly a man who had shopped before and was going to get some action.
I’m also obsessed with football, to the point that most of the people who started following me because we were friends socially or work colleagues, or both, have stopped following me because they don’t really find my Emile Heskey references that funny or enlightening.
So, why is it that I follow just 3 professional footballers? It’s not because Ornithology doesn’t really interest me that much, and even if it did, Drakes are a bit common, I’d rather tweet about an Eagle or a Hawk. I do LOVE piri-piri sauce, even though I prefer to cook with it myself rather than wait 45 minutes for my food, having paid restaurant prices for fast food portions that aren’t always that warm on arrival, so it’s fair to say that Nandos isn’t really pushing me either way.
If you haven’t guessed already, it’s the retweet button. The retweet button is brilliant, but in the hands of morons, or even people who mean well but get bombarded by morons for retweets, it’s a sodding disaster.
I kind of sympathise with celebrities who retweet, because they’re getting their entire mentions list filled with people pestering them with guilt tripping, begging tweets that imply that just one click of their mouse (I can see a super-injunction coming here) can cure everything, and you must feel a bit of a bastard ignoring them, but think what you’re doing to my timeline, you stupid, stupid people.
Imagine the scene, man visits his young son in hospital “Hey Johnny, great news, I tweeted Wayne Rooney, telling him all about you and how brave you’re being”, who for the purposes of this story is Johnny’s hero, “WOW! Is he going to come and visit me?” says Johnny. This is not how Mark (that’s a daddish name if ever I heard one) envisioned this going, he’s caught off guard a little to say the least, a bit like the man who makes the mistake of telling his girlfriend he’s bought her flowers before handing over the petrol station forecourt leftovers… “errrmmm, not exactly…” replies Mark, stuttering as he figures out how to manage the expectations of the room. “Oh that’s ok Daddy, he’s probably really busy with training and things” – Dad is looking a bit more happy right now – “Is he sending me a signed shirt instead?” – too good to last – “errrmmm, actually, what Wayne did for you son, is he retweeted my tweet, so that you’d get better” “Dad, what’s a retweet? Can I put it with all my certificates from school?”.
Now, I may sound like a heartless cunt, and I probably am, because I’ve never been in the position where you’ll do anything to cheer up an unwell child, but I’m seriously struggling to understand how getting a RT from somebody famous cures anything or makes anyone feel better? Not only that, you get RIDICULOUS requests “Hey Tom, I’m a massive fan. RT?” “Hey Gary, trying to get to 100 followers, RT from you would really help + make my day” – ok, here’s a thought, if a RT makes your day – you’re a cunt. If you’re begging for followers, I sure as shit won’t be following you just because somebody who likes Drake and Nandos RT’d you out of pity. If you’re a massive fan of Tom, sing Tom’s name as you walk down the street, just stay off of my timeline you moron.
Just in case you were wondering, the 3 footballers that I follow are Michael Owen as well as Gary and Phil Neville, and they get followed because they don’t really RT people and they don’t talk about Nandos or Drake. For the record, I’m 26 and quite a happy chap, I just sound like a miserable old man who has more in common with Harry Brown than he does with 50 cent, but I quite like that about myself.