Come and have a tweet if you think you're hard enough
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Version 0 of 1. Nothing makes me feel happier or more alive than a good argument. I don’t really care who it’s with – a close relative, my incompetent mobile phone provider, or the staff at Durham train station, whose car park ticket machine was running two minutes slow, thereby denying me an off-peak parking charge for the day. Still rankles, that last one, in case you’re unsure. There are few finer feelings than the visceral thrill of arguing the toss with someone – especially if, like me, you live your life in a bubble of self-delusion where you are always right and there is no room for dissent. The only downside I can think of when it comes to starting arguments with all and sundry is the occasional punch to the face that I have to field. Thank God, then, for Twitter, where the chances of being on the wrong end of physical violence are reassuringly low. This sprawling online community is populated by all forms of human life, and is a perfect place to get into a tasty altercation with a stranger. There’ll always be an angry, anonymous oddball lurking in the social network’s long grass, looking for someone to take issue with. If it’s you they home in on, don’t be scared – get stuck in and give as good as you get. In the past, I’ve become embroiled in Twitter dust-ups over subjects as diverse as football, prog rock, the space jump of Felix Baumgartner, a mooted CGI remake of The Wombles, the merits or otherwise of Chris Moyles and a pub quiz that I’d won two years previously (the last argument was with that evening’s runner-up). It’s always better if they’re anonymous. If their avatar shows a picture of their face, it’s easy to be influenced by it, for better or worse, but if they call themselves something like “UKIP4EVER_1965” and their avatar is a Union Jack, I’ve no idea who or what I’m up against, which allows me to transform myself into a cold, unfeeling cyber-squabbling machine. Having said that, it’s important not to lump the classic Twitter argument in with the weightier crime of “trolling” – they’re two very different things. As soon as (fairly) reasoned debate disappears and is replaced by name-calling and threats, things turn sour and one or both parties will find themselves reaching for the block button: the handy Twitter tool that makes pests disappear from your timeline for ever. While it’s fine to tell a Red Hot Chili Peppers fan that their group of choice is comfortably the worst to have ever stalked the earth, backing up your opinion with the #worsethanmugabe hashtag, to then unleash a string of expletive-addled insults at them is just plain wrong. But hey, we’ve all done it. I’m certainly not the only one who sees Twitter arguing as a life-affirming art form. Writer Louis Barfe (@LFBarfe) works from home and describes himself as “easily distracted” – must-have characteristics for the dedicated online spat addict. Impossible to offend, Barfe chooses to play a long game, saying: “The key is to duck out when it stops being fun. As long as it’s amusing you, however pointless the argument, keep going. “Never fear that the other side will think they’ve ‘won’. They’ll think that whatever, even after you’ve unloaded a crushing weight of detail and reason on top of their heads.” Another writer, Melissa Harrison (@M_Z_Harrison) has a more thoughtful approach. “Twitter,” she says, “is a polarising format, and no friend of nuanced debate – so things can quickly get unnecessarily heated. “But you really can change people’s views if you have the energy and patience, and feel able to absorb a bit of drama without reflecting it back. And even if they really aren’t willing to listen, it’s a good way to sharpen your own arguments.” Occasionally, and in my view unfortunately, a harsh exchange of tweets can even lead to the forging of a beautiful friendship. While not a hardcore arguer, Twitter user @steveindisguise has had his moments of glory, and says that warring with strangers, “passes a couple of minutes while I drink a cup of tea. Also, I like to imagine their heads turning puce while I finish my custard cream.” He adds: “I’ve made a couple of good Twitter friends following ridiculous, overblown arguments”, which goes to show that, like make-up sex following a furious marital row, there is room for a happy ending once the bickertweeting stops. For argumentative types like me, Twitter allows us to indulge in our passion at any time of the day or night, and we don’t even need to leave the house or change out of our sweat pants. Life-changing stuff. If you’re affected by any of the issues in this piece and would like to disagree with me, you’ll find me at @profanityswan. Bring it on … if you dare. |