Here they come, the people who make you want to mute the popular tweet notifications
“Well actually...”
“This tweet makes me sad why do you like this?”
“Clearly by tweeting this you hate animals/women/children/other”
“From this tweet I infer you are the worst person in the universe and I just want to say I am right here saying this to a complete stranger whilst 10k other people seem to be enjoying the tweet”
Least I’m not an academic trying to share serious stuff on Twitter. Jeepers. Like running naked and covered in honey through a forest of wasps.
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If Neil decides to use this channel as a showboat for his interview technique this pony is going to get very tired performing very quickly.
I’m actually big in favour of more news channels & journalism. Even GBnews, if they can hold authority to account & do actual journalism rather than culture war bait then this is important. However:
Yesterday I went to a fun farm theme park place with my boys (inset day).
In the giant wooden play castle area there was a sword imbedded into a block of concrete.
My boys insisted I try & draw the sword out.
Readers : the concrete block was not actually attached to anything
(Me: grunting)
(Grating noise as I suddenly swing a concrete breeze block attached to a steel imitation sword at some 4 year olds)
(Screaming)
Also bought a Diet Coke from the shop fridge & when they told me the price I actually said
“I’m only getting one?” So that’s me well on the road to understanding how the economy works again
I will always remember first time I took an American to Amsterdam for a bit of a night out:
“Dude, I gotta ask - why are all these women dancing in their underwear in the windows?”
(I raise a quizzical eyebrow)
“How do you mean?”
“Why do it? Do you put tips under r the door?”
“They.... they are sex workers. Prostitutes. Women, men & other of the night. This is a red light district. Hence the red light theme.”
My weird dream last night:
My 2 year gets excited there’s a squirrel. Sure enough a big bushy tailed squirrel is sat on the fence at the end of the garden.
“That’s funny” I think, “that squirrel DOES look big”
The squirrel hops down from the fence, slowly crawling, then walking
I realise as it advances that in fact, it’s a very big squirrel, that increasingly instead of moving like a squirrel, its starting to look like Ray Winston in a squirrel costume
My 2 year old is very excited, but I, however, in this dream, am now looking through the patio door glass at a squirrel that’s easily 7 feet tall, excluding its bushy tail.