1. Don’t believe everything you read on the Internet – especially if you’re consulting Dr Google. You probably don’t have cholera or consumption.
2. One is not, as far as I’m aware, required by law to like or comment on every single bloody Facebook post or wish every bugger happy birthday. Nor is it a crime if someone i.e. me doesn’t reply to your comment. I have a job that requires my full attention between roughly 9am and 5pm which means that I’ll miss that picture of your sandwich you posted at 1pm. But that’s okay because repeat after me FACEBOOK IS NOT REAL LIFE.
3. Never EVER read the comments on the Guardian website especially if they’re under any vaguely political article. The people who leave such comments are cobbled together from the bits left over when Jebus made the world or whatever. They’re like malware on your laptop. The purpose of their existence is merely to make you despair at life and want to move to the Bladerunner Off-World Colonies without so much as a lifetime supply of Heinz Tomato Soup.
4. There is much fun to be had by Internet shopping. By all means send for that blush pink sateen bomber jacket but don’t come crying to me when it arrives and you try it on while sucking in your stomach and you resemble an inflated whale bladder. It’ll end in tears; a messy fankle of fifth-generation Jiffy bags and sellotape and a trip to the Post Office – and nobody I repeat nobody needs that kind of negativity in their life. Step away from the ASOS sale, girlfriend.
5. Never attempt a Nigella Lawson recipe you find online. I’ve made her “Aunt Lily’s Scones” and I doubt the existence of an Aunt Lily, whose scones leave a soapy aftertaste. Lawson is just an advanced artificial intelligence being – a hoax to distract us from the real issues like Brexit, Dutch Elm Disease, Acid Rain and Bowie’s death. She’s the Royal Wedding of the Internet – popping up when the peasants are revolting.
6. Instagram isn’t real either. OBVIOUSLY I’m not going to post an unfiltered picture of me legs akimbo in my dressing gown, picking my toenails while watching Big Brother. And neither will anybody else. Their lives are not fabulous and that’s not their real house – it’s a pretend kitchen in Homebase that they’ve strategically placed themselves in and taken a picture of themselves chopping a plastic carrot, smiling. Just like you, they’re firing off a request for a repeat Prozac prescription as we speak and trying desperately to guess their partner’s email password in the hope that they can uncover some infidelity and go “SEE?! I BLOODY KNEW IT! BASTARD!” and skip off into the sunset with Shayne the fitness instructor with buttocks you could crack walnuts on.
7. Google (with the exception of Dr Google -see 1 above) is your friend. A simple googling of a thing will prevent your Facebook friends from rolling their eyes every time you share a “Facebook will steal your soul unless you copy and paste this status to your wall and sit in a bath of baked beans for a fortnight”
8. As soon as you read this, nominate a person, preferably a worldly one with a black heart like yours who’s been around the block a few times and is on the most part unshockable, and give that bitch a key to your home and the unlock codes to your iDevices, and strict instructions to delete your browsing history/bookmarks/shortcuts in the event of your death – even if it means they have to barge through POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS tape to get in. Don’t be that guy whose virtual legacy is more embarrassing than that time you highfived your doctor when it turns out her hand was only on its way to scratching her nose (for example).
9. Actually, as a postscript to number 8 above, just get them to burn your house down, especially if following on from number 2 above you have Tesco Bags For Life full of gimp masks and French Maids’ outfits.
10. If like me this is your life:
Remember you can simply do Edit/Mark all/ Mark as Read. Boom. You’re welcome.
I’d insert my favourite gif here of Obama doing a mic drop but I’m afraid there’s a cup of tea here with my name on it.
Okay it doesn’t technically have my name on it – it says coffee slut which is close enough.