Friday, 19 December 2014

My Facial Tattoo

Today I tattooed my face simply in order to spite somebody.

I know. I know... Getting a facial tattoo is one of those things I never thought I'd do, like brazenly lying to my readership about getting a facial tattoo.

It obviously wasn't a tattoo and it wasn't my face. What I actually did was deface my blog with a bloody stupid banner which I'm now beginning to regret. I also implied that I was going to turn my blog into a ditch of moronic ultra hip Americana. [Edit: This was that banner, which I've not seen sense and removed].


I feel a bit dumb for losing my rag at the people at the Yahoo! Bing Network. What kind of man flies of the handle just because somebody says the blog they've been writing for nine years isn't of 'high enough quality' and doesn't contain enough 'original content'. I'm not sure how much original content they want. Nearly everything on this blog (minus the previous post) was created by these two hands, two grey eyes, one largish Roman nose, and sundry genitalia with tinkling bell attached. If you listen carefully, you might even hear the bell ring every time I create something new.

Tinkle. Tinkle.

I've had a strange 24 hours and it all started when I returned to Twitter about this time yesterday. I hadn't been on Twitter in a long time and I discovered that my followers had dropped to a depressing 99. I thought that a bit low given my personal record was about 8000 when I was tweeting as Richard Madeley. However, I thought I'd give Twitter another chance so I began with a single tweet.
Sony should never have made a film about a raging ego with delusions of absolute power. But enough about James Franco... #TheInterview

I then did a couple of retweets. I replied to a Martin Rowson tweet and Rowson replied which just fed the beast. I felt 'in the zone'. I was ready to publish tweet number 2...
I wish Twitter had more celebrities spouting trite condemnations of brutal dictatorships. #thingsyouneverhear #thebleedingobvious

And then tweet number 3:
Why couldn't North Korea hack 'Grumpy Cat's Worst Christmas Ever'? Wouldn't Grumpy Cat be considered a delicacy between a couple of buns?

'Ha ha!' I exclaimed, rubbing my hands together. Off to make a coffee... Milk. Coffee. Sugar. Back at the desk. Let's see how the world has responded...

My followers had dropped to 96. My three tweets had put off three people!

Not sure what I'd done wrong, I left the PC and took my coffee for a walk. When I got back, I was relieved to see that I had a new follower. Even better: she is a go go dancer.

At first I thought it was fake. If you don't use Twitter, I should explain that there are automated systems out there that create fake users and you'll usually get a couple of semi-naked women (or Christians (or semi-naked Christians)) following you if you post on certain subjects. However, I did some research and soon confirmed that my follower was indeed a real go go dancer, even if I couldn't yet understand what I'd written that would attract an American go go dancer.

Then I noticed that the email confirmation wasn't to my usual account. She hadn't followed me. She'd followed a Twitter account I'd created a long time ago when I was pretending to be one of Steve Martin's go go dancers. It went with a blog I created all about life on the road with Steve and his bluegrass banjo. I thought it was amusing but, naturally, no other bugger thought it remotely funny. Most people thought Steve Martin does indeed have go go dancers. I honestly don't know if he does. I never researched it. Perhaps he has a full chorus line of go go dancers. Perhaps that's why my blog never succeeded.

Anyway, the go go dancer hadn't followed me but had followed the version of me who is a go go dancer. Naturally, I followed her back but as myself. See. Here I am among her followers. Bet you can't spot the odd one out...


Now, I know I'm sarcastic about so much stuff but not this. I mean: I'm being followed by a go go dancer and she's everything I'm not. She even posted some pictures of herself in some thigh high red leather boots. I vow now that you'll never see me in thigh high red leather boots. Well, not until I've worked out a little. She also sings, which is pretty damn impressive. When I sing, people flee thinking it's the Archangel Gabriel loosening his lips on his celestial tuba. Here's my new follower's newest song. 160 views already on Youtube and six likes. That's more than everything I've ever done in my life. No wonder the Yahoo! Bing Network were so hard on me...

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