Baaa.

Like most ill in the world, this can be blamed on Wil 'Wesley Crusher: Ultimate SpaceGit' Wheaton. I have been sorely tempted to Twitter for some time by the presence of many awesome people, both Ordinary Bods and Slebs on there, but little Wilbur posting a twittered conflab between himself and Brent 'The Spine'* Spiner where they basically vow to use their powers for evil rather than good and leave a trail of destruction in their wake tipped me over the edge. I was also tempted when I half-read this twunt's views on Twitter. I'd never heard of this chap before I was linked to his ill informed opinion piece, but can I just say, kudos in the 'Good Taste' field there for needlessly bringing up Sir Stephen Fry's Bipolar Disorder in order to suggest that those who use Twitter are all mentally ill. The story of Stephen (who, lest we forget is MANIC DEPRESSIVE AND MUST NOT BE TRUSTED) getting stuck in a lift sounded about as adorable as Wheaton & Spine: Partners In Crime.

Short story long: I'm now officially a Twitterer. I am known there as Scriblit. Hopefully enough of my RL chums will be part of it for me to be able to start foregoing Facefuck, because it's the most annoying website in the Cosmos. Come follow me, and then I will follow you, and then we'll all follow each other like the techno-sheep wot we are.

*I had a dream about a week ago where I was in a big room full of famous people and I called The Spine 'The Spine' to his face, for he was there indeed, and he laughed his ass off. On waking I decided it was funny enough to start using it in general. Last night I dreamt about going to the Baftas and eating a Samosa. My dreams have been weird recently. It's the pregnancy, I reckon.