I played Angry Birds yesterday. Which makes this FEMEN update even more fantabulous, and more importantly, given the subject matter today, re-le-vant. Image via facebook.
I still got annoyed by some stuff though.
That’s multitasking for you.
No. It’s not ok if there’s an effing cat meme involved, either.
As internet technology develops and we all get to live shiny, super new lives through it’s endlessly informative portals, the cold, merciless exposure of our myriad failings continues.
News broke in the last couple of days that Facebook stalking an ex-partner “may obstruct the process of healing and moving on from a past relationship.”
This is not bad science. The ceremonial burning of pictures of an ex is a culturally approved method of achieving closure from a relationship, so it stands to reason that constantly looking at photos of a former partner and deluding oneself about their feelings by wilfully misinterpreting status updates isn’t going to help with that.
So far, so good. But why do we need science to tell us that doing something that would have you arrested, charged with harrassment and possibly, if you’ve been going through their bins, sectioned, is okay if you’re online?
Andrew Mitchell ponders massive political boobs. Image via tocasaid.
Striding through a similar logic hinterland is Andrew Mitchell, Tory MP for Sutton Coldfield. You’ll be familiar with Andrew if you’ve been awake at all this week. He’s the guy who, when refused permission by members of the Met Police to go through a gate, allegedly said:
Best you learn your f***ing place. You don’t run this f***ing government. You’re f***ing plebs.
Mitchell has made the fatal mistake of admitting the swearing but denying the use of the word “pleb”. In doing so, he has unwitting pitted himself against The Sun newspaper, who campaign for the rights of the ordinary citizen. This includes the freedom to ogle big boobs over breakfast, which is presumably this is why they have taken such a personal interest in Mitchell’s story.
One thing is for sure though. The Sun has a long (although few would argue, illustrious) history of getting their man. Greater than that of the Metropolitan Police, probably. Andrew Mitchell can apologise until the cows come home, but if they’re on his case, stick a fork in him.
He’ll be done soon.