To Tweet Or Not To Tweet

Last night I introduced Roy to the wonderful world of online social networking. Now those of you who know our hero (in this particular tale as opposed to your everyday action type) you'll be aware that he is one of a rare and dying breed. Yes, ladies and gents, Roy Boy is perhaps the last person on our lovely planet who has regular access to the worldwide web and yet does not indulge in the shameless self-promotion that is social networking. "No way!" I hear you cry. But yes my friends, 'tis true. He isn't the slightest bit interested in whether Carole whatyamacallher who he sat next to in Chemistry over 20 years ago is married to Barry whojamaflip who lived next door but one to his Great Aunt Phylis in 1976. He wouldn't even bat an eyelid at his cousin's ex-boyfriend's latest status update telling his 365 'friends' that he's enjoying a cup of tea and a wank whilst watching This Morning. Nor that the girl on reception at his old company has just bought home a kitten but is scared her fella is 'gonna kill her!' I'm telling you people, he simply just doesn't care!

So imagine my surprise last night whilst logged on to my Facebook account and catching up on the latest happenings with all of my 262 dearest and closest 'friends', he strolls in and plonks himself down besides me with all the wide-eyed wonder of a boy scout on his first ever camping trip.

It's important to point out that he had in fact been drinking. There is of course no way on this earth that he would stoop to the depths of depravity that is Facebook or Twitter if he hadn't have been under the influence of something reasonably mind altering. The fact that it was only booze and not acid is still somewhat surprising.

After perusing typical Facebook fodder - photos of stag do's/new born's/trekking in South America etc., plus endless images of pissed up antics - we turned our attentions to Twitter. Now, let me make this clear. I do not Tweet. I don't actually know anyone who does it, and yet the Media would have you believe that every person on the planet, be they young, old, thick or with half a brain, is at it. I mean who the fuck actually thinks that someone, or anyone who has a life, is interested in knowing what you are doing every second of the day. Hey I know, let me just scratch my arse and change a tampon and alert all 200 of my 'followers' to this. Or better still, my boyfriend has just prematurely ejaculated and I'm now having to pretend that 'it's fine.' I mean for the love of God, who really thinks that we give a shit?

Apparently, we all do. People love it. You see them on buses and walking in the street, mobile phone in hand, scrolling up and down and typing in nonsense, smiling and giggling to themselves, content in the knowledge that they're inside the life of another human being 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

I did of course check out one of Twitter's more famous Tweeter's - Mr. Ashton Kutcher. A few months ago I'd read a story in the Times concerning a Tweet he'd posted containing a rather personal photo of his missis, Demi 'gimme' Moore-plastic surgery, in the nod. I mean what a pratt. Was she humilated? Of course not! Just another opportunity for her to showcase the latest ass tightening technology and what's rocking in the world of designer vagina's. Good call Demi, just keep dealing out that wad of cash and you'll be 21 forever!

As for Ashton's Tweet's, well I couldn't understand a bleeding word of what he was gobbing off about. It was all abbreviations and cyber 'it' words. Basically a load of old balls to a cyber has-been like myself.

Within half an hour Roy's interest had naturally dwindled and I was left to stalk Katie Price, Stephen Fry and Coleen Rooney. It can be a lonely life locked in the world of online stalking, but as long as you have your 'followers' or 'friends' you can rest assure that someone out there in cyber space actually cares about your bowel movements and your mundane journey to work.