You Know You've Hit The Big-Time When...

You know you’ve hit the big-time when the media come up with a combo-name for you: Brangelina, Bennifer, TomKat, Jedward. That’s right; X-Factor ‘stars’ John and Edward have unbelievably but impressively made it to Portmanteau Status mere months after bounding onto our screens with fake American accents and a distinct lack of talent.

How, one wonders, have a pair of mediocre/poor singers with such irritating personalities even been given the time of day, yet alone become almost national treasures, drawing in crowds of over 14 million viewers?! At the tender age of 17, these cocky boys seem to have the world at their feet, with talks of record deals, television deals and modelling contracts being carelessly thrown around, regardless of where they ended up in the show.

Tone deaf with dancing skills comparable to constipated orang-utans on crack, it may well be hard to believe how Jedward have gone from irritating, arrogant, 17 year olds with inadvisable gravity-defying quiffs who we loved to hate prancing around in red PVC to Britney, to celebrities in their own right with their own (c-list) star following. With Peaches Geldof calling herself their number one groupie, Heat’s ‘Jedmania’ campaign with ‘Jed We Can!’ T-shirts and countless Facebook groups pledging love for the blonde leprechauns, support has slowly but surely risen until they became the sole reason why so many people tuned in weekly.

The unfolding drama surrounding Lucie Jones’ shock eviction after Simon Cowell’s surprising choice to leave it up to the public vote (which resulted in the continued presence of Jedward in this so-called ‘singing competition’) provoked a public outcry. But in-keeping with the old-age phrase ‘all publicity is good publicity,’ it appears that the surrounding controversy only led to a steady increase in both viewing and popularity. Suddenly, it became ‘cool’ to love them. Facebook statuses and tweets of love spread like wildfire, but are we really surprised?

Haven’t the nation always loved a good novelty act, which is always surprisingly popular throughout the competition? Who can forget the cringe-worthy Cheeky Girls who are still desperately trying to cling onto their fame years later (via engagement to politician Lembik Opik to their upcoming stripping TV reality program ‘Pants Off Dance Off’) or sickly sweet sibling duo Same Difference? I’m sure everyone can remember Chico of ‘It’s Chico Time!’ so-called fame, and even Rhydian and G4 made it through to the final in their respective years. The public love an act which offers something different – an act to get everyone talking, a performance to argue about over lunch or bitch about by the office water cooler.

The lack of talent, though, is slightly concerning. The boys can’t even harmonize or stay in tune for longer than 4 consecutive notes, and their terrible dance moves are rarely even in time with one another. On one hand, the majority of the mediocre X-Factor contestants take themselves way too seriously, meaning that Jedward’s comedy performances offered some light relief, with their ridiculous outfits and even more ridiculous song and dance combinations.Finally, though, the dream is over. The viewers and judge's couldn't pull through for these underdogs following their weak last performance and they were sent home by Dannii Minogue. Interestingly, she tried to create more controversy by playing to what the audience wanted; asking them before she made her decision whether she was judging a singing competition or not. Unfortunately for Jedward, the audience screamed 'yes' in their thousands, despite the twins' dedicated following, meaning that they've finally been released back into the real world.

But how did they survive this far? The media are throwing around 'conspiracy theories' aplenty, wondering whether that the public are rebelling against music mogul Cowell and his control over today's talent, others claiming that they are aliens. The Times has suggested that Jedward are a postmodern artworld joke, whilst hints have been made towards hair-gel companies paying for them to stay as long as possible. Either way, now they're gone, it's all over. All that's left are a bunch of boring singers. The Guardian TV and Radio Blog put it perfectly:

'Who does that leave in the running to win X Factor? Nobody, that's who. Nobody interesting, anyway. Danyl's too objectionable, Lloyd's too dull. Stacey's too self-consciously zany. Joe's got too many teeth. Olly clearly wants to be Shane Richie when he grows up.'

The X-Factor publicity generators have gone, and it will be interesting to see how the viewing figures will be affected following their departure. Dannii's question was controversial but apt – whilst the competition should be about pure raw talent (such as Leona Lewis), there is more interest surrounding the judges arguments, what Cheryl and Dannii are wearing and whether Cheryl is wearing her ring this week. Scarily though, if half as many people were as passionate about the elections as they were about this talent program, it is more than likely that our country would be a hell of a lot better run.

Much though I'd like to think that rather like Big Brother 'stars,' there will be a media frenzy for a week or too before they fade into relative Z-list obscurity, it looks like Jedward will be sticking around for the foreseeable future. Their relentless energy, good natured-ness, ability to laugh at themselves and their wholesome good looks seems to be a winning combination. If their PR continues to work as hard as they have been doing, there is no stopping this terrible twosome.

The Death of British Comedy?

Following on from my blog on British identity last week, I couldn’t help but notice the increasing trend of ‘political correctness gone mad’ not only in general society but recently in comedy as well. Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past year or so, it will have been difficult to escape the mass-hysteria surrounding the Brand/Ross prank phone calls to ‘national treasure’ Andrew Sachs about his granddaughter, and more recently the Jimmy Carr backlash following his amputee joke.

Given that we, the British, have always seemed to pride ourselves on our readiness for laughter, it is more than a little concerning that so many seem to have had a sense of humour bypass somewhere along the way to 2010. Aside from electing Boris Johnson as Mayor of London and the continued presence of Jedward in X-Factor, the only intentional humour that seems to be socially acceptable now is the toe-curlingly embarrassing array of catch-phrases peppering Strictly Come Dancing from Bruce Forsyth’s ancient, puckered mouth.

Whilst, then, we drown in crippling mediocrity and resign ourselves to ‘comedy’ that is more Russell Bland than Brand, it is important to consider whether us Brits are really losing our sense of humour or if too many are just jumping onto the apparent socially acceptable bandwagon of complaining. The British excel at complaining about anything and anyone, and social persuasion is rife in our culture.

Looking objectively at the Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand row over the apparent degradation of Georgina Baillie, Andrew Sachs’ granddaughter, it wouldn’t be unfair to deem Brand and Ross’ voicemail discussing the former’s sexual relations with her as inappropriate, especially live on air. 




However, given that this Georgina Baillie is part of a strip group called the Satanic Sluts and further to this she was initially proud of the mention, posting the clip on her MySpace page, their comments were hardly unfair. This is a girl who has made hardcore porn for public viewing and uses her sexuality as a way to pay the bills.

Whilst yes, Brand and Ross were a little out of order and pushed their prank too far, it was their bosses who decided to air it and deemed it socially acceptable with a warning. Comedy always holds the risk of offending people; that is half of its attraction. Risqué one-liners, taboo subjects and controversial topics are what drive humour, and the BBC’s recent decision to take no more creative risks is a saddening one. Given that only 2 people actually complained about the Radio show that it was broadcast on until the good old Daily Mail’s Sunday supplement stirred the shit, I had hoped that the further thousands of complainers were just angry that their tax money is funding these so-called comedians who, it was being reported, were offending the public.

However following the recent media frenzy surrounding THAT Jimmy Carr joke (the suggestion that we will have an amazing Paralympic team for 2012 due to the large number of amputees from Iraq and Afghanistan), I am not so sure. Carr is a comedian whose entire humour is centered around offending just about everything and everyone. Usual topics of jokes include rape, murder, obesity, paedophilia and beastiality to name but a few. (See http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5JHnMyiWNk4  for an example of sexism in his humour). One wonders about the moronic nature of people who pay to go and see such a man on tour knowing his sense of humour, then complain when they don’t like a particular joke.

Researching this further unearths a rather irritating statistic, though. Carr is currently in the middle of a 10-month tour. Each date plays to about 9,000 people. Only 2 people complained. Once again with this number that changes it from being a single anomaly to a multiple; enough for the media to pick up on it and create an unnecessary amount of fuss. Perhaps it is due to Poppy week (this also relates to my last blog) that there is so much sensitivity around this particular joke at this particular time. This has led me to once again question this industry that I am trying to break into. The media, and more specifically, Public Relations, seems to have the power to completely manipulate the masses. Society is told who to love and hate; who is good and who is bad. It was Andrew Sachs’ PR agent who was called by the Mail on Sunday and provoked into complaining, despite Sachs’ original permission to broadcast the telephone calls and it was the media who have blown Jimmy Carr’s joke out of proportion (in comparison to many of his other jokes) when so few of the actual public complained.

There’s nothing quite like a little bit of ‘political correctness gone mad’ to bring about a premature death of someone’s career, and it seems like the media are doing all they can to vilify the few genuinely amusing people to grace our screens and stages today. Is it because they are struggling for news? Or is it more of a keep up with the Jones’ in the world of print, where if one paper reports a story which generates some interest, the others scramble for similar readership and, having failed to generate any ‘shock’ stories of their own, are quick for a share in the glory? I find it more than a little worrying that stories such as these beat others such as earthquakes and murders to the headlines, yet these seem to be the stories that are favoured and shifting copies. Will Britain's love for a scandal lead to the eventual death of comedy?

Carnage by Name, Carnage by Nature?

Following the uproar and public outrage surrounding photos of student Philip Laing urinating on a war memorial during student bar crawl Carnage over the past few weeks, I am admittedly quite surprised that this could possibly lead to a jail sentence, as reported by BBC News today. Whilst I don’t deny that this is a despicable act with a complete lack of respect for the millions who died fighting for our country, as well as an act of public indecency, I can’t help but think that Laing is being used to make an example of.

How many people, especially men, can put their hand on their heart and honestly say that they have never urinated in a public place? Desperate times call for desperate measures especially once alcohol, a diuretic, is consumed, and whilst it perhaps is not a pleasant activity, I have seen men leaning against walls or in doorways urinating on almost every night out that I’ve been on. In saying this I am not defending this student’s case. The literal pissing on someone’s grave is disgusting and shows a complete lack of regard for people who were husbands, fathers, brothers and friends of many people who are still alive today. This brings me to another thought though – morbid though it is, graveyards are (for some completely inexplicable reason) often the place to hang out for youths both of today and in days gone by. It’s not unusual to hear of them being used the backdrop to losses of virginity, drugs deals and vodka sharing activities whilst teens go through their rebellious years. This, however, is rarely documented upon and they never get arrested for disrespecting the dead.

Scanning this week’s news across a number of national websites, my eye was caught by a flashing advert for CARNAGE UNCOVERED ; an ‘undercover’ article written by Nick Francis for the ever-classy Sun – ready as always to jump on the bandwagon of any news story with their own less-relevant twist. As bar crawl I enjoyed a number of times over my three year stint at Southampton University and did some promotional work for, Carnage is a termly night of fun which many students look forward to for a chance of thousands of like-minded piers to have a massive night out with large groups of friends.

                                    

Portrayed at a sleazy, irresponsible and grope-tastic money-drainer, the reporter (as ever with The Sun) casts a completely over-dramatic and exaggerated shadow of pervertedness as he presents the event to the readers as something that is, quite frankly, every parents’ nightmare. Given the assumed age and stage of life of Mr Francis, however, it is difficult to see how he might enjoy such an event anyway. Carnage is a student event; a bar crawl enjoyed as a blow-out to relieve mounting assignment and exam pressure and a sure-fire way to bump into the majority of the friends that you have made so far. It is also an opportunity to meet current friends’ house/flat/coursemates and widen your friendship circle. Why on Earth would Nick Francis enjoy a night like this, given that he is not entering the spirit of the event by drinking, does not know anyone else and presumedly isn’t studying for any upcoming exams?

Sure, there are hundreds of people who dress inappropriately. Sure, I’ve been one of them (to a certain degree – nowhere near the extent that is reported), but I regularly see even less clothing being worn on any night out in any town. Women these days have a habit of flashing too much flesh than may be entirely appropriate, which can quite often have the opposite of the desired effect. Regardless of this, the male readers of The Sun very rarely fall into the category of ‘men who value women for their intelligence and would rather more was left to the imagination,’ and by the numerous skimpy photos, it doesn’t look like the reporter was complaining. Given that the ‘uniform’ the partakers willingly pay for (before they sell out like hot-cakes) is a T-shirt, which is more often than not an XL unflattering fit, how it is worn is personal discretion.

Of course there were some women who go over the top and jump at the opportunity to wear little other than some French knickers, a heavily customized top which now bears more resemblance to a bra-strap than its original T-shirt form and a pair of ‘prostitute heels,’ but there will always be women who will make Jodie Marsh look under-stated, whether there is a dresscode involved or not. The number of bars visited is a good way for new students to find their way around their new hometown in the first semester, and the ‘horrifying tasks’ on the back of the shirts are rarely completed. Nick Francis writes in horror of challenges such as "Meet with a bad devil", "Get spanked by a naughty angel" and "Same-sex snog time" as if they are integral to the night out or even that bad, yet most of the T-shirts are so customized that the boxes are rarely visible to even get ticked.

The press have been quick to blame Philip Laing’s misdemeanor on Carnage itself, and even District Judge Andrew Browne stated that "Carnage is the name of the organisation who promote this type of activity and some might say that somebody should be standing alongside you this morning." This comment particularly angered me. Laing claimed to have drunk an entire bottle of whiskey before going out to this event – a feat that would probably have me in hospital having my stomach pumped before I’d got a quarter of the way through. Of course he doesn’t remember the night out – he would have been absolutely annihilated before even attending the event. Whilst Carnage does indeed go round many bars, this doesn’t necessarily promote people getting absolutely inebriated – when I’ve gone, half the time it’s too busy to get a drink in many of the places. There are no pressures to drink certain volumes like there are on crawls such as pub golf, so it makes me irritated that Carnage are being held partially responsible.

In today’s blame culture, very few people are taking responsibility for their own actions. How one dresses, drinks and behaves on Carnage is down to personal choice, just as with any other night out. At this age, we should be old enough to make the right choice and exercise some sort of self-control in terms of our behaviour. At any rate, Carnage employs a large number of stewards to almost police the event, ensure student safety, organize road crossings and be on the look-out for anyone in trouble, and also works in conjunction with the police to ensure extra safety. The same can’t be said for many other nights out at university or in general society. We are old enough to look after ourselves and whilst Philip Laing has made a stupid mistake, very few people are faultless. Part of growing up is experiencing getting too drunk, making mistakes and learning from them. Unfortunately this is a pretty hard and national mistake to learn from, but is it one which truly deserves a prison sentence rather than a fine and some community service?

Has Britain Lost its Sense of Identity?

In light of the media furore surrounding Nick Griffin’s appearance on Question Time last week, I couldn’t help but question his extreme Nationalistic views on our society; has Britain lost its sense of identity due to our questionably disproportionate multi-cultural tolerance, and, if so, what exactly was this sense of identity in the first place?

Certainly the Christianity, manners, wealth and stiff upper lip of times gone by so often associated with Britishness have shifted somewhat/become essentially extinct. These days, the respectable English Gent has been replaced by a beer-swilling, chanting football hooligan who’ll incessantly try to get his leg over anything with a skirt and a pulse. This yobbish desperation is all too often coupled with an unfathomable arrogance and disbelief upon rejection.


Indeed just this week I walked past a traffic jam in which three leering, perverted pikeys (read: Burberry cap-donning dole-scum) shouted 'shake ya booty!' from their chavmobile (read: pimped out but nevertheless undisguisedly shabby 1993 Ford Fiesta with absolutely zero need for a spoiler and a presumed illegal sound system blaring out some sketchy drum and bass loud enough to wake my grandmother up in Newcastle). Upon my returned disgusted look and lack of compliance, they chanted 'F*CKING LESBIAN!' until I was out of earshot, impressively somehow managing to even drown out their ear-drum bursting ‘beatz.’ Of course I was greatly amused by the concept that because I didn’t eagerly leap forward with an animalistic display of frenzied lust and offer up my best bootylicious Beyonce moves (I really don’t think they were ready for this jelly) then I must of course be a raving, butch dyke. Who indeed could resist such visionary delights, with their gelled curtains (oh so 90s!), gold studs, top of the range JJB sportswear and generic tattooed arms?

The most worrying factor in this scenario was just how utterly unfazed I was; unfortunately, I think I speak for the majority of women in this country in saying that getting groped at the bar, shouted obscenities at in the street or being literally humped on the dance floor are all things we learn to tolerate in today’s society. But on the other hand, long gone is the genteel lady associated with British identity a century ago who never speaks out of turn and serves her man. Waving the stereotypical British women’s flag now is a foul-mouthed Essex chav with canary yellow hair extensions, tangerine skin, fake Juicy Couture tracksuits and 3 children by different fathers; a cigarette hanging from her lips as a permanent fixture and clutching a bottle of wine at all times.

If this week’s The Sun headline is anything to go by, it is the women of today that pose the biggest threat to society; the cat-fighting, screeching, no-knicker wearing alcoholics, vomiting Britain’s pride down the drain (pastimes glamorized by society’s WAGs).

Bearing all this in mind, are we sure that this ostensible devotion to multiculturalism and bending over backwards to accommodate different races and religions in Britain is such a bad thing? Given that the moral codes of Christianity have long died out in our society, surely we may profit from other religious guidelines? Apparently this is not so. If we were to believe the views held by nationalists such as the delightful Mr Griffin, we are creating a chasm just perfect for millions of illegal immigrants to litter with their religions, ways of life and cultures which are steadily pushing out our own.

Whilst of course I disagree with this, it isn’t completely unfair of me to say that there aren’t some nuggets of truth buried in there. ‘Political correctness gone mad’ is a pandemic currently sweeping the nation where we pander to the needs of pretty much every other religion and race apart from our own. It is currently perfectly acceptable to have a Black Police Society but not a white one, for different religions to have extra days off from work including Christian holidays, to have entire areas of London that are non-white and to run segregated Muslim schools. Whilst ethical diversity is one of London’s selling points in my opinion, it is certainly extreme that only 12% of Southall’s residents are indigenous whites, for example.

Whilst in Nick Griffin's eyes the ‘black’ areas of Britain and especially London are gang heaven and the Indian and Pakistani areas are unquestionably terrorist havens, the majority of England (thankfully) disagree. It has been other races, colours and religions that have helped England win the wars and shaped the country into what it is today. They are an integral part of our history, and just as legitimate a citizen as I am. This leads me to question quite what Nationalism is. Do we have any place for it in this society, where its ambassadors use it as a tool for racism?

If the football hooligans and their WAG’s now define British identity then perhaps we should be grateful for the diversity around us. Britain was always going to change, and past ways were always going to die out. Thus is the nature of evolution.

Still, English people accounts for 83 percent of the British population and 85 percent of the economy. Still, 650 million people speak our language. Still, we remain a superpower. Still, we’re globally recognizable. 


We’re still British. We’ve just changed a bit.

Is Fashion Fascism?

Fashion: formerly a luxury that only the very wealthy could afford, this high culture indulgence has become accessible to all budgets over the last half a century with the development of low-cost stores such Primark, making it an affordable pastime and way of life for anyone. Evidently there is quite some difference between the Couture gracing last month’s London Fashion Week runway and Asda’s new Autumn/Winter line, however the bridging of the high and low culture gap in society is resulting in ever-growing opportunities for the fashion industry to influence women across the market with dictatorial vigour.

Today’s society is undeniably driven by neoliberal capitalism; we are seduced into buying clothes that we have little or no need for through advertising, countless magazines decreeing this week’s ‘must have items,’ paper features and celebrity endorsements and become a slave to consumerism where, as Tyler Durden from Fight Club claims, ‘the things you own end up owning you.’ Whilst, as previously stated, anyone can follow fashion in today’s consumerist culture, this materialistic society in which we live is dictated by the fashion designers, steered by the wealthy, and emulated by the remaining population.

Fashion can be seen as an aspiration; an escape through which consumers hope to present a grander and more hopeful version of themselves by imitating celebrities and people who have a higher social status and a more desirable life. How you dress and present yourself affects how people to think of you, and is important both in terms of employment and in attracting a future partner. However, this consumerist culture has put such an emphasis upon one’s presentation that dressing well can be considered almost as a career (think Victoria Beckham), and judging fashion has become almost a sport, with best and worst dressed lists gracing the first few pages of most weekly magazines, often with public slating for bad dress sense.

Anyone who remembers Bjork’s public execution for her crimes against fashion when she wore a swan dress to the Oscars a few years back must be able to understand just how fashion is like fascism. Rather than be open minded and perceive her creative and quirky fashion sense as a personal expression, she was ostracized; the media calling the ‘fashion police’ on her from publications aplenty.

While it appears that fashion is predominantly led by and intended for women who stereotypically worship it and follow it religiously, it could be suggested that perhaps fashion is actually our enemy. Indeed, the term ‘fashion victim’ is more correct than we first thought in regards to how influential and powerful it is at brainwashing much of the general public and especially the target demographic. We seem to willingly purchase magazines in which we are mostly greeted with a series of images of stick thin women wearing unaffordable clothes, with recycled yet inviting diets and tips to lose weight in order to replicate these very women.

Stepping back and regarding this objectively, it seems near impossible that the fashion industry are able to manipulate us in such a manner. This main controversy surrounding fashion is, of course, regarding size. With the infamous size zero debate still rife, it has been nice to see the increasing media awareness of their influence over the rise in anorexia in today’s western society. However for every magazine, advert (such as for Dove) and catwalk show that is all for celebrating women’s natural sizes, there are hundreds of media pressures persuading women to starve themselves to fit into an agreed conformity.

But what is the reason for this development in fashion that has only been around for the past few decades? Long gone seem the days when curves were seen as sexy in the industry, and yet ask around any group of males and the general consensus seems to suggest that they still much prefer curves than a woman whose form is pre-pubescent and undernourished. So why is it that the industry seems to be dominated by boy-like figures with no breasts or hips to speak of? The only solution that readily pops into my head is an idea I examined in some detail whilst writing my undergraduate dissertation: that of the importance of androgyny in today’s pop culture.

There are many theories and ideas that serve to pinpoint the factors that differentiate men and women. Some theorists believe it is related to the phallus or lack of, whilst others suggest that gender is actually just a performance. Either way, one wonders whether perhaps designers are forcing women to be androgynous in order to fit into the stereotypical of ‘human;’ the first form we recognize from a young age in this male dominated, patriarchal society. By stripping female models of their sexuality, it presents them as a blank canvas; a sexless object which nevertheless has more male than female characteristics. This allows the art that is fashion to be presented and appreciated purely for its form, with less distraction of sexuality. This blank canvas is ideal for the projecting of fashion propaganda; a new trouser line, a different waist than was in last season or this year’s new skirt length that is enforced by these fascist designers and publicized by the media and PRs.

This brings me to start questioning my future career move. I have read many comparisons between propaganda and public relations – so are we faciliting and further compounding this fascism of forced skinniness and ‘agreed’ conformity? Will my integrity be somewhat tried and tested if future campaigns or jobs could be the promoting of something that is ultimately damaging society and the image of my own sex? Or am I over analyzing an industry that, much though I would like to blame the strangling constraints of aforementioned male-dominated society, is mainly driven by women who dress for other women, as opposed to for men. If this were not the case, then the fewer clothes the better, but we are all aware of how baffled men seem to be by shoulder pads, Ugg boots and wet-look leggings!

Ultimately, designers dictate the uniforms that we adopt, and it is fashion victims who blindly follow in the hope to become more desirable/accepted/higher up in the social hierarchy. It is rare to find someone who possesses true style, be it rebelling from the decreed ‘this season’s look’ or merely just knowing what suits their body shape and sticking to it. Whilst it takes a confident woman to try to pull off the more daring looks of each new season of fashion, it takes a much braver one to defy the often repressive nature of the industry and have to withstand the barrage of attacks from all angles from the formidable and unforgiving media and society – their sheep - of today. 

The Don'ts of Facebook

DON’T use your status to inform the world how much you love your bubba-boo-bear/scrummylicious poppet-darling soul mate. I don’t care how many sleeps till snuggletime or how much you miss or love him/her. Your friends will be more likely to be genuinely pleased that you’ve found happiness if they didn’t have it shoved in their face every time they log on.

DON’T let your soppy partners ‘like’ aforementioned statuses. The rest of the world seem to manage to be happy in their relationships without needing authenticate them on facebook, so unless you both are insecure, neurotic and possessive idiots who need to constantly remind the world that the other one is taken and want only to be defined in terms of a vomit-inducing couple, drop it. Thanks.

DON’T update your statuses on football all the time. People probably know from your ‘interests’ that you like Arsenal/Chelsea/Man U, let alone your profile pictures depicting your teams’ occasional glory year when they won a trophy of some sort. No one wants to read 'F*CCKKINNG GET IN! HAAA TAKE THAT YOU D*CKHEADS, trust me. Get a personality or something instead of being defined by a team like millions of others, or do you just have nothing else to offer? 

DON’T update your statuses every two seconds informing everyone that you’re ‘eating a banana’ or ‘watching television’ or ‘having a cup of tea.’ You’ve got twitter for that, and no one actually cares/wants to know, anyway. If I wanted a running commentary on your diet/television-watching activities, I’d ask. Trust me.

DON’T use facebook to update the world on how many words out of an essay you’ve written or bitch about how many exams you’ve got. Guess what? We’ve all got essays and exams and are all on facebook in a desperate bid to ignore them or as a welcome break after a hard push of writing or revising. So stop reminding everyone of work or rubbing it in their face that you’ve written 1245/1500 words. This is especially true of the dissertation status epidemic that appears to sweep the nation faster than swineflu every year at around Easter time.

DON’T whine about how much you dislike the new facebook layouts. Accept the fact that every few months it is going to adapt slightly, annoying though this is, in order to attempt to stay on a par with other social networking sites etc. Less of the whole ‘OMG I CANT NAVIGATE AROUND IT, SHIT ITS JUST SO ALIEN TO ME, I SHALL THREATEN TO STOP USING IT BUT OF COURSE NEVER WILL.’ It gets boring after a while.

DON’T use your status to write that you're 'so upset' or 'crying' or 'feeling like ending it all.' Stop being so goddam attention seeking and get a grip - call a friend or your family or something. Similarly don't use it to be 'devastated and heartbroken' or to have a not so subtle cryptic message to someone who hasn't text you back or doesn't like you anymore or has dumped you. Seriously, you're worth more so have some dignity and stop giving them the satisfaction of knowing that they dominate your life.

DON’T speak as if you’re still 13. You’re probably not Laughing Out Loud or Laughing Your Arse Off etc. You’re not trying to save money by squidging everything you want to say into one text as facebook is free, and if you’re on it then it can be assumed you have got a few extra-precious seconds to type words out properly. Cz dis iz rly anoyin n we arnt 13 on myspace nemor tryin 2 fit in n be kewl. And while you’re at it, please learn to differentiate between your and you’re. Because my not angry at your incapable grasp of the human language, I am.

DON’T spend hundreds of pounds on ridiculous DoubleTake Studio photoshoots just for the sake of a profile picture. Do you really hold yourself in such low esteem that you need the validation of a photo comment saying ‘u look buff hunni’ to know that you’re both an attractive and nice person, which usually you are anyway?

DON’T for GOD'S SAKE do ANY MORE of those RIDICULOUS quizzes. Can you really not get through life without knowing what your hairstyle personality is/how old you are in cat years/which type of car you are/which vegetable you are most similar to/which season you represent/which punk rock star you most resemble or what the name of the person you are going marry is? Seriously.

Rant over. For now...

To Blog or Not to Blog? That is the Question...

So here we are: The First Blog. That nerve-racking first impression; my very first footprint in the so-called ‘blogosphere’ from which anyone who happens to stumble upon my musings will judge me on, and chose to either read further or disregard with indifference. Can it be compared to any real experience such as a first day at school, university or new job? That nail-biting anticipation and build up of fear and nerves with the hope that you are accepted? Liked? Somehow noticeable? Valued?

On one hand it is surely a positive notion that in this shallow and image-orientated society, the internet can protect our identity and prevent initial judgments in terms of sex, race, size and beauty (or lack of). The gawky, awkward and mono-browed child inside me from days gone by, with a skirt far longer than deemed socially acceptable and too-baggy jumper rejoices at the opportunity to be judged only on my so-called intellect and emotional depth. But whilst the public has less opportunity to ‘judge a book by its cover,’ if you will, this puts more pressure on the content – this time, quite literally, the words that are being written. It is this which exposes us at perhaps one of our most vulnerable states; stripped bare with no editor and no proof-reader to correct our mistakes or tell us how stupid we may or may not be portraying ourselves as.

This begs the question of what exactly the standard etiquette of internet writing is. Should I be using my blog to comment on serious issues in formal English with correct grammar and punctuation? Are wide, sweeping statements spanning controversial subjects that I may not know a huge amount about advisable? Could my opinions damage my future career or alter current friends’ perceptions of me? Should I write in formal, essay-style paragraphs of meaty, intellectual subjects that are open to debate between the members public or should my blog take a more informal, colloquial style of inconsequential topics that are more easily accessible for both the educated and uneducated masses? Am I even writing for the public, or am writing for myself?

It is easy to see how blogging can be a therapeutic and a cathartic way by which to both organize your thoughts and express them in your own time at your own pace, having had time to set them out exactly how you wish for them to be digested. But it is not egotistical to believe that any given number of people particularly care about my humble opinion? Is it even worth worrying about committing social suicide, given the sheer size and depth of cyberspace? Perhaps it is a little self-indulgent to hold the belief that what begins initially as an assessed exercise could grow into something that may affect my life in any way at all.

However, all too often have I heard of the addictive nature of ‘blogitis;’ an ailment that kills off much of the victim’s free time and can often lead to the blurring of reality and cyberspace. Other symptoms include compulsive spamming (the consistent posting of unwelcome links of videos or sites to usually innocent internet by-standers) and the danger of a gradual change of tone and content within the blog to perhaps cater towards what the followers of afore-mentioned blog wish to hear.

Self-indulgent though it is to assume myself as some sort of internet-savvy Carrie Bradshaw with slightly less of a resemblance to a horse, I hope that this blog will give me the opportunity to voice my opinions on issues that are bothering me in the press, discuss topics of personal interest and most likely throw in a few cheeky rants here and there whilst hopefully engaging and entertaining whoever is unfortunate to stumble across it or be forced to read it…

Enjoy!