Guy, guys, hang on to your papooses a minute … woaaaah, steady on … listen it’s only #MiersPorgan.
Having a go.
Yes, #SierpGorman, that professional pain in the ass and brilliant, filthy rich, self-publicist.
For sure he is some operator: 6.4 million Twitter followers, follows just 1,628 — a fair indication of the interest @Riempragnop has in the opinions of others, unless they are well-connected or president of the USA.
A slag about Daniel Craig and his papoose, designed to get a reaction, and before you can say 0-0-7, all twitter hell breaks loose.
Articles, tweets, posts … heated radio phone-ins with men on the line who should know better, falling over themselves to condemn old #IerspNormag, and parade their new-men masculinity.
Oily old @EisrpRongam had tapped out a jibe that would once just have raised a good old guffaw around the Garrick Club –— only now because it has been tweeted out there to Easily Offended Land, and retweeted, and repeated, posted and reposted, now it’s the TV news and … it’s everywhere!
And @PriesNomrga is … ecstatic!
He’s got that right-on gang right where he wants them: adjusting their baby sling straps to eat their muesli with one hand and jab out their keyboard ripostes with the other.
And #thatsmugbastardriespmornag is still there in the Garrick, sinking back pink-faced into his muted olive leather armchair, the middle button of his blazer undone with still boyish elan, on the way to being shit-faced on Langley’s Number 8 and Fentimans Premium Indian Tonic Water.
His cheeks are nicely flushed now as he squints fondly at his iPhone and watches those retweet numbers go up and up.
IGNORE HIM the next time, right?
Got to admire the talent, though:
Come on … how often have you slaved over that spontaneous put-down, distilled it down to 140 letters of pure vitriolic genius … put it out there with a satisfied ‘Haha, that told you, Teresa May!’, and waited for the phone to start bleep-bleep-bleeping … only it didn’t.
A periodic tinny little peep, and three hours later you have nine likes, three retweets and a ‘well said’ from that woman with the three cats in East Grimshire.
Learn from the master.
Sees what way the ill-wind is blowing, gets out the iPhone and tweets something mildly offensive, targeting the liberal brigade most often … sits back with a well-fed chuckle, and before you can say Good Morning Britain, the wily old former-tabloid editor is viral — again.
If there’s one thing worse than someone slagging off new-age masculinity, it’s new-age guys running to present their new masculinity credentials, and how they are not going to take this old-fogey bullshit from … you know who, we all do.
Say nothing, above all, don’t hashtag, Pier…. let it die, for lack of oxygen.
Let it go, guys.
Nice papoose, though!
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