On Twitter, the Silly Season, and a certain list

Twitter logo with Christmas hat“It really does seem that it’s now that time of the year on Twitter when I could admit to raping a nun no one would notice,” I tweeted in the early hours of New Year’s Eve. “Or even fucking a pig, for that matter.”

The traditional media Silly Season seems to apply to all these new-fangled media operations as well. On and on about the goddam cricket, they tweet.

Meanwhile the traffic levels, and hence the potential audience for any tweets you might tweet, are way down. Hence my coenobitic considerations and porcine ponderings.

“Maybe I should just tweet about all of the things that you shouldn’t fuck until it turns 2013,” I tweeted, despite what Charlie Brooker might think.

And so I did. For the next hour and forty minutes.

Here’s the list. I reckon that just reading it here, without the real-time performance aspect, diminishes it. Nevertheless, enjoy.

All of the things that you shouldn’t fuck until it turns 2013



The wives of other family members.

The exhaust pipes of large tractors.


Front bench members of parliament.

Milk bottles (trust me on this one).

Anything that seems to have an opening into a larger internal cavity, but doesn’t.

Joe Hockey (trust me on this one too).


One-kilogram bags of mixed nuts.

Penguins (any species).

Anyone under the age of 11.

Anyone connected with the mining industry, unless their given name starts with a consonant in the first half of the alphabet.

Anyone who has ever tried to implicate you in a failed drug deal at the Beresford Hotel in Sydney shut the fuck up what are you saying.

That barman, no matter what you might have been thinking just then yes I know he’s hot but no. Seriously. No.

All stone fruit.

Anyone who has ever appeared on @theprojecttv.

Julie Bishop, even if you are seeking advantage within the WA Liberal Party.

Anybody who has ever posted a tweet including the hashtag #auspol. They are bad roots beyond redemption, each and every one.

Yes I know I just did that I’m not stupid and do understand the basic concepts of irony you fucktard.


Anybody whose given name starts with the letter F.

Wales, generally.

Whales, generally.

Anyone holding the rank of Deputy Sheriff in the states of Nevada, Montana or Texas.

Anyone who has ever produced a film or TV program that includes vampires. Yes, even that good one.

Dogs weighing less than 10kg.

Rent boys shorter than 165cm named Daryl no of course this isn’t personal and who live in Chippendale.

The Director of Central Intelligence (US).

Anyone who has published a book through Random House.

Residents of Iowa, Sheffield or any Pacific island with an area greater than 100 hectares.

Real estate agents, or cane toads.

Anyone who has ever used cane toads as a metaphor for anything, even in passing.


Anyone who has ever published a link to a photograph of a cat on the internet no shut the fuck up you are a lamer.

Shortbread biscuits.

The entire management of JetStar Airways, unless your cock is thicker than a broom handle.

Benjamin Law, no matter what the diameter of your cock.

Benjamin Law’s mother. This sort of thing simply shouldn’t be encouraged.

That cardboard thing at the centre of rolls of toilet paper (trust me on that one too).

Christopher Pyne.

Volvo drivers.

Anyone who owns an SUV, or any member of their immediate family (not including adoptees or foster children).

The Commissioner of Taxation.

The Deputy Commissioner of Taxation.

Any member of Sugababes, past or present.

Holly Johnson.

That guy I met in Perth who works for a certain Asian airline because he really is a dull root and you’ll wish you’d never installed Grindr.

Shannon Noll, unless you’ve got particularly good drugs.

Mark Zuckerberg.

The Dalai Lama, who really is the Bono of Buddhism.

Your own mother. Unless you’re Greek.

Current members of 3 Battalion, Royal Australian Regiment.

Members of the Thai royal family, unless you have previously presented a morning program on Adelaide television.

Crew members of any passenger ship of more than 10,000 metric tons gross tonnage below the rank of midshipman.

Richard Wilkins, unless he is dead.

Jon Bon Jovi, whether he’s waxed his chest or not.

Nobel Prize Laureates younger than 45 years of age.

Anyone who follows @stephenfry on Twitter.

The cast and crew of “Home and Away”, past and present, except for that one guy I won’t be telling you about tonight.


The short camels. Llamas or alpacas or whatever the fuck they’re called.

Anyone who has ever given money to anyone or anything via Kickstarter.

George Woodroffe Goyder (1826-1898), Surveyor-General of South Australia from 1861, BECAUSE HE’S DEAD YOU SICK BASTARDS.

Michelle Grattan. Ditto.

Anyone who smells faintly of aniseed, no matter what their “explanation”.


Anyone whose genitals appear to be inflamed or discoloured.

Any prostitute who charges less than $150 per hour (excluding cab fares for outcalls).

Hotel managers in any city in the Central Asian Republics, excluding hotels in Baku built before 27 March 1954.

The writers of the BBC TV series “Spooks”.

Anyone whose Twitter bio includes “SEO”.

Squid with a tentacle length greater than 30cm.

Those little porcelain dolls you often see in second-hand shops.

Japanese nuclear safety inspectors.

Channel Ten’s weather presenter whatever the cunt’s name is Christ I can’t stand him so I can’t imagine sex with him well I can but yeah no.

Senator Eric Abetz, unless you’re a bit drunk.

Alain de Botton.

Alain de Botton’s progeny, unto the seventh generation.

Anyone who knew who Alain de Botton is without having to resort to Google.

Salt-water crocodiles (unless you’re a current or former staffer of @TheNTNews).

Dugongs and/or manatees, unless you are in a lifeboat from a properly licensed merchant vessel that has sunk at least 48 hours previously.

Billie Piper.

Unpasteurised cheese.

Anyone who has ever played the trombone.

Anyone who has ever written a sentence beginning “According to Ayn Rand…”

Ayn Rand, whether alive or dead.

Leigh Sales, but only because it shows a complete lack of respect.

Anyone who has ever bought a season ticket to the Australian Opera, or thought about doing so.

Subscribers to @crikey_news.

Anyone who has ever created a parody Twitter account.

Star Trek fans, any series.

Anyone who has ever been a set designer for a US television talk show that airs or aired later than 10.30pm Eastern Time.

Anyone who helped construct those TV sets.

Any medical practitioner who has prescribed SSRI anti-depressants to anyone under the age of 18 years.

Tony Blair.

Anyone who thinks that the programming language Python’s use of whitespace as meaningful syntax is a good thing.

Your siblings.

Unless they’re really, really hot.

Jean Luc Ponty.

Any member of any trad jazz band ever. Unless they’re black.

Rupert Murdoch. Unless you’re black.

Anyone who has ever used the words “embrace”, “next-generation” or “disrupt” in a press release.

The developers of Microsoft Sharepoint.

Formula 1 race drivers, and members of their immediate family older than 11 years.

Anyone who has ever written for TechCrunch.

The End.

[Image credit: Twitter Christmas icon by Noctuline, used under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.]