Forever on the sidelines

All over the spring and summer sweaty men (and the occasional woman) hammered away furiously on their keyboards (not a euphemism), getting themselves properly het up about the word twee, and the Twee as Fuck clubnight. Your blogger here even got his collar a bit warm now and again. I am but human.

Nobody really made much sense during the tiny furore. There were people who didn't mind the word "twee", nor what those frightfully beautiful Twee as Fuck people were up to in their salad days in London.

There were those for the t word was akin to their VERY MANHOOD being called into question. This was a bit daft, if you ask me. Can anyone be twee? Something is twee, surely? I'm not English scholar, so you call me out on that one.

And then there were those that kept a respectable difference. Either because they thought the whole storm in a tweecup was a fantastical load of bollocks (not to mention a waste of time), and merely tutted and sighed and moved on. Like what you do.

And then, of course, there is the In Love With These Times... opinion. Yet again, Kieron has managed to convey in around a thousand of so words what it took scores of people all over the internet months and months to do. And then they failed.

Have a read of this piece and tell me it doesn't clam you down and shut you up, and I'll call you a fibber.

Now, if only we could get an RSS feed of ILWTT so that we could get instant updates to our i-fone wank tablets, or whatever the new thing is. Is there an app for that?