As I hit the pillow, up popped a notification: ‘Threads’, Meta’s new offering, is available to download. My heart thumped – I’ve been excited about this launch since I first heard of it. As a frustrated influencer, and somebody who couldn’t care less what Mark Zuckerberg or Elon Musk are doing to each other, I don’t care about the politics. I just thought Threads could be just right for me. And social media is all about me, me, me, obviously.
It’s easy to take a photograph of myself. I do it a lot. But Twitter is a different kind of vanity – for people who aren’t necessarily obsessed with images. That’s why I’ve always felt tentative about it. Threads will be better, I say to myself, as the app downloads.
Well, first impressions are brilliant. It is easy to use and faultlessly integrates with Instagram. The blankness of the ‘post’ format reminds me of starting a book – that daunting but electrifying feeling of what could be – combined with the reassuring ease that you just have to hit ‘post’ on whatever rubbish it is.
I think fast. Will a picture of Mercy Muroki and me looking jolly at the Speccie party go down well in this new threadbare world? I panic and post another photo of Chopper – Christopher Hope, the Telegraph journalist – and me. Surely they will love that. Everyone loves Chopper. It’s 1 a.m. now, I am delirious. I post: ‘Is there a word limit? Who knows’, swiftly followed up with: ‘Will Elon join? Who knows.’ I tell myself I’m being funny.
The character limit is a moot point over on Twitter. What is the limit of a Thread? Also, is it a thread or a post? I am a bit confused.