Letter to the Social Media Editor
An apology
An apology
Please rush immediately to the Social Media Editor and if he refuses to accept this communique, I demand this be screamed down a telephone line until his ears bleed.
It’s been sometime since I last touched base with you my old friend and the Social Media Desk has been spartan now for some weeks. Please accept my apologies old friend, my oldest friend in fact, and I know you’ll receive these words with the wisdom age affords us. I have a new found zest for writing again and as my oldest friend it’s incumbent upon me to break this somewhat downbeat news with you as, despite our contractual obligations as well as our friendship, my writing will not be concerning social media. Which is obviously going to be a concern for you as my Editor, and I’ll return to the reasons for my absence of a keen eye on social media shortly but first, I need your reassurance that our friendship still holds true and can overcome this burst of writing energy in other directions?
Do you remember Bombay in ’91? Touring with the England Second XI and being dragged from the Press Box to fill in at the last conceivable moment in the first Test Match of the tour? I remember it like it was yesterday my old friend. You and your “twirlers” from one end whilst I steamed in from the Pavilion End. We were like men possessed old chap! Young men full of piss and vinegar, winking at each other as we passed one another on the field, each with a bagful of wickets, promising Test cricket playing futures ahead of us. Bombay in ’91. What a time to be alive my old friend and what a great yarn we’ve spun that into over the years eh? I remember that evening in Marrakech when we concocted this story over a game of backgammon and far too many glasses of rum on the balcony overlooking the harbour. Do you remember that night my old friend? Do you remember how we laughed at the predictions we both made that evening as to how long and how far we could stretch that tale of bilge and balderdash? We’ve sullied the very definition of “embellishment” over the years but we’ve done so in the spirit of friendship, and who needs facts when lies are much more entertaining? In fact, and you may have noticed this trend yourself over recent months whereby lies become fact and entertaining. We were trendsetters you and I.
And we always will be.
I can’t write about social media at the moment as I’ve been experiencing that strange sensation of seeing a real world for a change and I can’t retreat back inside the madness of social media. Not yet. I’ve felt sand between my toes on a beach, more than one in fact, and I’ve stumbled upon a new obsession for wandering up and down canals, smiling, talking to strangers and actually somewhat enjoying myself even if I do look like a strange man badly dressed for an English Summer, as well as appearing to have lost his dog while out walking. I’ve seen herons the size of a Jurassic age pterodactyl not 20 feet away from me rise majestically into the air and swoop mere feet from the top of a still canal, arcing upward again before coming to rest a little further along the “Cut” (I’m using technical words now my old friend!) and presumably waiting patiently for me to catch him or her up. Magnificent creatures old friend.
Magnificent.
I yearn for a life on the canal. I crave the feel of sand between my toes. I need to hear the whispering sounds of a low tide ebbing onto a lazy beach. I realise this isn’t news to you my oldest of friends. You know me as well as anyone else in the entire world and probably better than I even know myself. Which is half of the problem I guess. I’ve seen real life again. I saw a horse on a beach! A horse! The strange thing is, the last time I was at this particular beach, I also saw a horse, so I’m now doubting both my memory as well as the photographic proof I now have sealed in a vault in a prestigious London bank. So that must be true? The horse I mean. I couldn’t possibly make it up. Not again. But was it a mirage? A trick of the sunlight? Is this a lie, a fact and regardless, is it entertaining? I’m fucked if I know, but I did find a secret nuclear fallout bunker yesterday so I know where I’m heading when they deliver the four minute warning.
So please, in the spirit of our friendship, accept this apology and my promise that I’ll be writing about the deliberate destruction of Western Civilisation shot through the ugly distorted prism of social media again real soon. There was an “Insurrection” apparently, or maybe there still is? A citizen was arrested at the “Mother of all Parliaments” for voicing his democratic opinion. The warmongers gathered again at the G7 and the useless vacuous vaudevillian actors added up to a total of 9, so I don’t trust their mathematics, let alone the dead eyed stares in the photographs with their sleeves rolled up.
Politics 101 used to be a simple affair: Get lured into a honey trap from which you’ll be pressured forever to be beholden to Corporate and Establishment One Party powers. Join a secret “Club”. Swear an oath. Lie in a coffin and confess your sexual secrets. Chase the God of Mammon. Obey the Gods no one else dare admit are real. You don’t need me to tell you that nothing has changed in this regard except it’s all on public display now yet those rascals get away with it by rolling up their sleeves and looking earnestly into an ever present nearby camera.
Lies become facts become entertainment.
We were trailblazers my old friend, and this is why I’ll be posting something for your attention on the Social Media Desk sometime soon. Just not yet. I have more canals to find and I need to feel the sand of a beach between my toes again, and real soon.
I know the strength of our friendship can withstand this current lapse on my part because I know you. And I love you.
Take care. Get some sunshine. Listen to some waves gently rolling to shore.
Remember Bombay ‘91.
Send word.
Gnosall to High Onn
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