There has been a lot of media attention given over to Twitter lately. Discussion has ranged from the fascinating fact that famous people have been known to use it (yes, you can join the other 35,483 followers of your favourite celeb and get updates from their glittering lives straight into your drab little laptop - who knows, one day they may even reply to a Tweet of your own and for a brief yet gusset dampening moment you can pretend you are friends) to the chances of it rotting your brain.
I have had my own discussions with non-Twitterers who wonder what the appeal is and perceive it as the ultimate in vanity, this expectation that anyone should be interested in the minutiae of your life.
They have a point. There are a great many Tweets concerning what's for dinner, whether the author is ready for a nap or not, links to boring old shite nobody else gives a stuff about, those fucking annoying "Blip" things which just let you know what music someone else is currently listening to and announcements about cups of tea. Why do we feel the need to share this with the world? Twitter has aged a generation before its time, turning us all into elderly parents endlessly stating the bleeding obvious and alerting us to the trivial: "Ooh, I think I'll have a cup of tea", "it's a nice day" or "I think I'll have haddock for supper tonight".
The rest of the Tweets I read are thinly veiled boasts: "Have just finished writing a novel," "Had lunch with Alan Rickman and now off to photoshoot" or "Amazingly hot sex with 6 of the biggest cocks in Swingerland - fanny on fire, but worth it!"
Still, my argument is that the use of Twitter is no more vain or shallow than blogging. There is nothing you'll read on Twitter that you can't read more wordily on blogs. And that, of course, is where the benefit lies. Many Tweets may well be utterly pointless and/or annoying but they have the great advantage of being short. When time is lacking and I haven't the option of a lengthy writing session I can post an arsey, acerbic comment on Twitter and feel I have done my bit to rebuke the world for failing to meet my exacting standards yet again.
Now I am off to see what everyone had for dinner and who is bragging about the fact that they, you know, do it.