As regular readers of this column will know, I am particularly tech-savvy.
While my retard colleagues wallow around in prehistoric ignorance of the possibilities offered by the new Information Superhighway, I was the first consultant hepatobiliary surgeon in the Middle Bit of England region to have his own bolg.
There have been countless occasions where my natural flair with computers has saved the day, such as the time all the endoscopic equipment was stolen from the hospital, and I managed to find an exactly identical set for sale on eBay! Fancy that!
I’m also a regular user of social networking sites like FaceSpace and MyBook, which are useful for checking out pictures of my FY1 applicants now I’m no longer allowed to ask them to send in a swimsuit shot. Dan the Fat Gasman, for example, can’t use a computer because he can’t reach it.
Anyway, given that my finger is firmly on the tech pulse, I cannot help but notice the latest phenomenon called Twitter. For those of you who don’t know, it’s basically a kind of email that you put out into the air somewhere, and then you get loads of followers and end up as famous as Stephen Fry.
I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I took the opportunity to check with my son, who is at home for a while, having completed his studies at London Notapoly University. He spends his time sleeping and picking his nose, and looking for jobs on the internet. I suggested he become an anaesthetist, but he’s hanging out for something that makes best use of his skills as a fluent Klingon speaker.
But I digress. I asked him what he thought of Twitter, to check how cool it is with young people. He said: “Oh, yeah dad, it’s like really cool with all the kids, and definitely not a boring load of shite for 50-year-old narcissistic losers.”
Did you hear that? “Definitely not”. Right I’m in.
Follow me here (unless you’re one of the plethora of ugly prostitutes on Twitter who keep sending me pictures). Only attractive ones please. Ahem.