Just over a week ago – and to some derision from both friends and followers – I proudly announced I had started a TikTok account. The criticisms were wide and varied. Buzz words included ‘Sad’, ‘Tragic’ and accusations about an interest in young people that wouldn’t be decent to print here, but that Boris would probably shout across the despatch box.
I’m going to go out on a limb and speculate that your average Spectator reader isn’t the absolute target market for a site like TikTok. But Michael Gove probably wasn’t the go-to punter for a hard house night in Aberdeen, so you never know.
My reasons for joining TikTok were fairly simple. I’m aware – and grateful – that the appeal I have is predominantly to men of a certain vintage. Men of a certain worldview. Men who like me can still look like an electrician even if they’re wearing a dinner jacket.
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