The Daily Telegraph now has a policy that all its journalists should be on Twitter. This is a good idea, since it is the most immediate form of public communication, and a way of advertising oneself. So last week, I went on.
The problem is that I have not got the faintest idea what to say. After agonising for about half an hour, I decided this might be my May 1979 moment, so I wrote: ‘I’ve joined Twitter. Where there is discord, may I bring more of it.’ Immediately, I received emails and texts warning me that someone was pretending to be me (this has happened before).
Since then, I have had nothing to say, and I feel like a Twitt. If I do have a thought, I want to keep it for my columns. If I don’t, I am reluctant to share that nullity with others (though I notice that not everyone is restrained by such a feeling).
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