Contrary to popular belief human endeavour is a craze that has been around since at least the 1820’s; it wasn’t invented just recently by Lucozade’s marketing team in a shameless attempt at rebranding a nasty little orange(ish) flavoured drink that fails to stimulate neither body, mind or imagination.
In at least somebody’s lifetime man has set foot on the moon, man has invented a telephone that walks around with you, man has found the hot lemon and honey cure for the common cold, and one man has run the 100m faster than you can say “what a wonderful achievement for such a young man; shame he’s such an arrogant cunt”. Now however, man has reached one achievement greater than all others combined, squared, doubled up and then multiplied by the amount of women Robin van Persie has tried to grope – man has invented the social networking website to end all social networking websites – Twitter.

[It is worth noting at this point to cover any potential agreviances with my patriarchal choice of language that I'm pretty sure that woman kind has achieved some shit too, ya know, like through history and that.]

Anyway, Twitter land as it endearingly referred to by twitts (users of the website, not a judgement passed on the people that choose to use it) ((users being users of the said social networking website of course, not users of hard, soft or medium enjoyment drugs)).

Basically, each twitt has the capability to follow another twit, through means of something-or-others. The site is the end stage of the six degrees of separation theory that half-twits have been arguing about on facebook for at least like, 5 years. The six degrees have been shrunk down into one twitt of separation. Awesome.

The website is apparently popular with celebrity ‘I’d-give-at-least-14-handjobs-every-day-for-a-week-if-I-could-just-meet-Lizo-from-Newsround-just-once” enthusiast types. Every twat twit is able to “follow” their friends, celebrities, favourite high-street store, or Robert Mugabe, and will received regular updates of anything they touch, publish, eat or say, via their account.

To give y’all an insight here are a few updates that have been floating around twitterland over the last 48 hours:

His Holiness the Dalia Lamma: ‘I can definitely confirm that this twitter account is mine and that despite well respected resources reporting otherwise it has not been created by anybody other than myself’.

Michael Phelps: ‘Did I lend somebody my Cypress Hill CD? Wooo, is that the time brah?! It’s 4:20 somewhere. Wooohooo’.

Jeremy Clarkson: ‘Gordon Brown is a stooped Scotsman with or without the all seeing eye’

Jonathan Ross: ‘*Something grossly inappropriate* blah blah *Something about flirting with the older ladies* more blah. Mark Thomson, where the fuck’s my bonus?!’

Twittney Houston: “Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii will always love twiiiiiiitterrrr’

Phillip Schofield: ‘Wow, you guys actually remember me?! Thanks Culthsa’

So, good people, now you know that Andi Peters’ favourite meal is Nando’s peri-peri chicken and that even Dave “the home of twitty banter” Matthews considers his own music bland – but with somewhat melodic vocal stylings – it’s your choice where you go from here.

Either, you immerse yourself in man’s greatest endeavour, or you turn your back upon it and run along and learn how to read print.