Miss out Monday – Number 6’s guide to the week in social media


As Ferris Bueller pointed out, life moves pretty fast. And never faster, in the 4G superfast broadband free wifi 2014.

This can sometimes be a problem for the harassed blogger attempting to present her half-baked commentary on contemporary events. Especially as I am – by nature – something of a ponderer (and, what’s more, a ponderer with a full-time job, two children and a number of time consuming hobbies).

This combination has hampered my blogging habits of late, I must admit.

I will come across a news story, start to muse upon it, honing that killer opening sentence for a couple of hours. Then I do the school run, teach a few children this and that about assonance, do a bit of marking, hang some washing out.

Then 12 hours later or so, say about 11pm I log on again to start writing and LO! Hadley bloody Freeman has written something pithy about it or – even worse – the Stockport-Pixie Owen Jones has done his usually articulate magic on the subject.

And I read it, and when I read the comments and they are all ‘GOD I AM SO BORED OF ALL THIS! MOVE ON!’**

Curse those childless journalists with mornings and afternoons at their disposal.

Although to be fair, many of these pieces often read like they haven’t exactly given it a great DEAL of thought. I know, I know everyone’s a critic and writing opinion pieces is MUCH HARDER THAN IT LOOKS but this frantic pace does them no favours. Leaving aside things you read on this blog – of course!- how many times to you get to the end of a comment piece and think, Christ what the hell was the point of that?

I am looking at you, Comment is Free (which I have recently renamed, Lucky That, Because That Comment Would Have Been Poor Value In Poundland).

I think that’s the rush to get published that means that journalists have little time to reflect and say something crafted. It has to be out there *quick* – and quality suffers.

This also means that, if you aren’t online all the time (and you aren’t, are you? No one is. Except the journalists. And, at the moment, me) you can miss stuff. An entire news cycle can happen in the time it takes to recover from a hangover; and in twenty years it will be a question in a pub quiz and you will think, bugger! that was that day after Mike’s 30th when I stayed in bed all day.

So I wonder if, as a kind of public service, maybe you might like a summary of the week on line? Guaranteed comprehensive, thoroughly researched and in no way partial!

Well here it is anyway:

Everything that happened this week on social media w/e 25/10/14

UKIP released a ‘fun’ ‘charity’ single, the charity in this case being UKIP (20p in every 79p to go towards hounding immigrants and stirring up intolerance, which is an interesting use of the word charity, but that’s UKIP for ya).

The ‘singer’ Mike Read withdrew the single the very next day (see what I mean!); this means that this song lasted about the same time as his ill-fated (translation, absolutely crap) Oscar Wilde musical Oscar!*

(Though early rumours suggest that Mike Read is in line for a Breakthrough Award in the MOBO’s next year – we’re all rooting for you brother. Your struggle is our struggle.)

UKIP tried to milk this story for a little longer by claiming they had intended to donate the proceeds to the Red Cross Ebola Fund ALL ALONG (despite failing to mention this before the decision was made to withdraw the single, and despite the Red Cross not in fact having an Ebola Fund. UKIP’s marketing and PR guys must be quite an interesting bunch.)

That must have been the shortest meeting in the history of the Red Cross:

Red Cross Donations Manager  – right so I’ve called this meeting to discuss the donation by UKIP of….

Everyone in the Red Cross – (shouting) NO!!!!!!!!

Red Cross Donations Manager – right, ok let’s go down the boozer then.

Some little girls (and one boy) said the F word a LOT to make a point about sexism.

There was a fair amount of OVERWROUGHT SHOCK – mainly from lots of Americans who, it turns out, get REALLY upset about swearing.

It also turns out that Americans are pretty relaxed about whacking children with hands, sticks and indeed any available implements (even the children in this clip, who are reading from a script and I presume paid actors, hence a ‘whooping’ would seem somewhat unfair).

Fastforward to the end of the week and Americans are very much LESS upset by the fact that there have been 87 school shootings since Sandy Hook in 2012.

All of which leads me to conclude that America Is Broken ™ and on this subject, I have more to say.


UKIP have a Commonwealth Spokesman and he’s an absolute corker. Seriously if you haven’t seen this, get yourself a cup of tea and something to bite down hard on, and maybe a cushion to hide behind in the worst bits.


There are limits to the famous UKIP appeal to the disaffected working classes, and that limit is Liverpool. UKIP put up their secret weapon on BBC Question Time, the VERY SHOUTY Louise Bours and every populist knee jerk gobbet that fell from her lips was met with stony silence.

She was reduced to shouting ‘Hang the paedophiles! And police murderers!’ and still only nothing but the gentle scraping of unionised, fairly-paid tumbleweed.

(One wonders idly – if Louise Yeah She Bores Me Too and Winston Shouts-Incoherently are the acceptable face of UKIP, WHAT are the rest of them like?)


Renee Zellwegger appeared looking 10 years older than she did a short ten years ago.

Shockingly, and seriously, brace yourself for this, it seems she may have had some plastic surgery! I know, earth shattering stuff. Why would a woman reaching middle age in an industry obsessed with youth and appearance resort to surgical intervention?? It’s beyond inexplicable.

Russell Brand has become Jesus and everyone is scorning him. And we all know what happens next in that story.

Katie Hopkins said nothing this week. Nothing at all. For which relief, much thanks.

* I may have made up the exclamation mark

Ferris Bueller photo http://www.digital-polyphony.com/14ferrisbueller.htm

About number6

I am not a number, I am a free woman. More or less.
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