Work day, various house-cleaning things, parent-teacher night, dinner prep, bedtimes, and then I sign on and learn that Twitter is no more. I guess because Elon Musk fired everyone? Seems silly of him but what do I know.
Here’s what I know: you’re all my captive audience now on this, a blog about 1990s British television shows. This blog, which is, again, about 1990s sitcoms, and not even the American ones, apparently has 1,000 subscribers, plus a couple more I think since Substack sent whichever automated email alerting me to this.
Which, what?! If each subscriber paid me a billion dollars (most are free; I don’t blame you) then I could buy Twitter from Elon and run it to the ground through less subtle ineptitude.
But no, you’re stuck here with me, hearing, longform, about my Platonic crush on Victoria Wood, my all-around one on Steve Pemberton (also Reece Shearsmith! but mostly Steve Pemberton), and my successful attempts at dressing like Victor Meldrew. My less niche thoughts tend to make their way into less niche outlets, so here are… no not the dregs, but the unadulterated version. And without Twitter to siphon off some of this, it will only get worse. You’ve been warned.
Between FemChaos, Smoke 'em, Fif and BARPod I was, and plan to continue being, quite content.
"And without Twitter to siphon off some of this, it will only get worse. You’ve been warned."
Tosh! I was indoctrinated when I was a tween (and younger!) in things like 'The Two Ronnies' and 'The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin'. I met Cleese when I was tiny (and he was still in his 20's) and recited the 'Dead Parrot Sketch' to him which, in retrospect, I am sure irritated the hell out of him. Twitter, feh! I am from usenet and i have seen things that make the alt-right look like a bunch of whiny bitches (albeit murderous ones). I mean, really.
elm
acid for blood