by Ross Sharp

I am not on Twitter, as I’ve never felt it would have, or would add, much relevance to my life.

I feel no need to “update” that status anytime soon

What I have trouble understanding is why so many people are so willing and eager to open their lives on so many levels to so many other people they don’t know and know nothing about, and then act surprised when one of them takes a dump on the rug.

Why not go up the local locksmith and have a thousand copies of your front door key made and leave them lying around at railway stations and bus stops with your address on them and see if you get burgled.

“Hi there. You don’t know me from a bar of soap and I don’t know you, but you’re a slightly famous person and I’d like to be your friend and follow you around, aren’t you lucky? I’ll pop over Saturday morning and you can make me a coffee and feed me a Danish, maybe later we’ll catch a movie, and I’ll take your kids to the park and show them tricks with my penis.”

It’s the internet.

It’s full of crazy people.

You’re reading a blog called “Smelly Tongues” , what’s halitosis got to do with it?

That’s not the name of a song, but it should be.


Crazy people on the internet.

You can’t expect to go about rabidly hoovering up anonymous “followers” on your Twitter account and tweeting at them all ten times a day about everything you’re doing, and then turnaround and start shouting at them to leave you alone when they give you the willies.

You should’ve just left them to sit in the corner undisturbed in the first place, where they could make strange bird noises and quietly fiddle with themselves and fashion snowmen from their stools and eat a bug or some dirt occasionally. Back in their natural habitat, so to speak.

They’ve all got stains on their pants anyway, and they wear polyester shirts and they don’t brush their teeth, they double dip, and they never bring any fucking beer to the party, so why anyone in their right mind would want to be friends with fuckers like these for any reason at all in any forum is a complete mystery to me.