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After my last blog, the following comment was posted:
Anonymous said...
so you slept with this bitch Ella yet? You keep bringing her up, constant kind references. If it weren't for the fact that youra complete failure I'd assume your allready fucking her, But we all know your not, partly down to those deep down feelings of underconfidence and unwantedness that were made oh so much worse when you got cheated on. I bet they don't really help your confidence around girls. I guess thats why you praise them on blogs, because you havn't got the balls to say anything in real life.
Your a joke
2:17 AM
Right. Ouch. I’m a decent kind of guy and I appreciate healthy criticism as much as the next gee, so I didn’t delete it. I just left it up there. In fact, I’m barely going to discuss the actual content of the comment itself for fear of appearing pricklike and/or snipey – and we know that I’ve turned over a new leaf and am trying to curb my internet overreactions. Just rinsing every section of that and making a load of unjustified value-judgments on someone I barely know would be a really knobbish thing to do. It would seem like I was playing the role of some kind of internet tough-guy and posting horrible and unwarranted things about someone from behind the safety, anonymity and security of my keyboard. And frankly I would never do anything like that. In fact, I will just make a few general points about it and then we will be able to move on with our lives. I have some, just read them, note them, make of them what you will.
Point the First:The comment was posted at 2.17 in the morning
Point the Second: “allready”
Point the Third: The writer commented on the fact that I ‘haven’t got the balls to say anything in real life’
Point the Fourth: It was posted as ‘anonymous’
Point the Fifth: I am not ‘fucking Ella’ yet and if I was it would be no cause for sadness; in fact frankly it would be a cause for joy and dancing in the street. I also don’t constantly mention her for no reason (pfft, the idea)
Point the Sixth: "underconfidence and unwantedness". Neologistic.
Point the Seventh:You’re. You’re. You’re. YOU'RE.
THAT’S IT THAT’S IT. That is it. Those are the only real statements that I have to make about the actual content of the comment itself. Well, I have one more but I think that it can wait until I have finished the rest of this blog.
Of course, once that comment was posted, the message board/comment section/facebook/JCR/Oxford Journalism Scene/my parents became AWASH with speculation as to whom the writer could have been. After intense discussion and not a little bit of internet detective work, I tracked some IP addresses, and hacked some sub-servers and found out that I didn’t really know anything about computers. I then fell back to the wisdom of popular guesswork and thus, in no particular order, here are the most likely suspects as chosen by the mob. Ironically, I think that the beginning of this list could fit quite snugly in with the whole ‘people who hate me’ list which I have also been compiling:
For some reason, Mike has been the suggestion offered by the greatest number of people. I don’t see where this has come from. This is not his style. Mike’s style is being overbearingly friendly and nice. I haven’t seen him being horrible to anyone ever (other than that one time when he got obsessed with my friend Joe’s girlfriend Kaitlin and then went out with her when they broke up, but that was strictly a one time thing). And frankly I don’t see why either of them would be that mad with me. Especially about Ella (even though Ella is more of a man/woman than Mike/Lucia will ever be). Plus they aren’t vindictive. Plus I haven’t done anything to hurt them at all. Plus why would they care enough to be blog-cussing me at 2.17 in the morning. That kind of behaviour is absolutely for social pariahs and people with skin complaints. So I want to officially cross them off of the list. But it was gratifying the number of people who independently decided that it was him and called him a knob. That was good.
She had detested me since I accidentally called her ‘fat’ three years ago and then she screamed me out of the house and my only response was to sing at her. Could she be the one who wrote it? Thinking about it: No. Not her; firstly I don’t think she reads this blog as much as she used to do, and secondly because I don’t think her fingers are thin enough to type individual letters yet. “Ho ho, a return to vintage early 2006 humour! Wahey!” [clam]
You know when you cause someone so much hurt, and they do enough bad shit to you, and you two hate each other so much, that eventually you think to yourself “Seriously, Tom, you have burnt literally all of your bridges with this girl” and you essentially cut off all communications and never speak to each other again? Well that’s pretty much the situation between me and this independent boys school in West London. At this point, I honestly think that King’s College School and I can have no more to do with each other. I can’t even remember all of the reasons, but, following certain incidents and happenings, I’m pretty sure that there’s an entire year group that hates me. What’s really good is that there are still untapped wells of resentment out there. People who I don’t even know occasionally send me hate-mail. It’s brilliant and I know that I should be upset, but really, it takes a certain level of anti-conformist skill to make an entire school full of public schoolboys hate your guts (with the exception of my friend Pete and some dude called Alex Watson who apparently thinks that I am ‘cool’; cheers dude). So yes. There is a decent chance that the writer of that comment is from King’s.
But hey, joke’s on you, buddy, you got screwed over by the IB system whereas I did A Levels which are progressively getting easier every year, got all As and now go to Oxford! Gutted.
I hadn’t even considered that it might have been a girl until Aime pointed out to me that both sexes can indeed operate keyboards. I was like woahhhhh. Although I do guess that that kind of makes sense; I mean what with all the stuff about my relationship with girls, perhaps the anonymous really is writing from a female point of view. Especially as the main attack seems to be along the lines of ‘You are too shy to talk to girls’ which to be honest I think is kind of cute and endearing and Seth Cohen-esque. OOH I KNOW perhaps it’s a girl who like, secretly loves me and is getting increasingly frustrated that I’m not picking up on her really obvious signals! Yes! I’m in there again!
Mmmmmmaybe not.
I mean, I’m an optimistic guy at heart and to be honest given enough alcohol I can translate absolutely any female signal into a booty call, but even I see the weaknesses in translating “you’re a complete failure” (my grammar) as a come on. Maybe I’m wrong and frankly, babe, if you want a piece of the Phizzle, you have to do it take a ticket and stand in line, I’ll move on to you shortly. Maybe just send me some money?
They did call her a ‘Bitch’. But who could hate Ella? That’s like hating the Sun or something. And when I say the Sun I mean not The Sun the newspaper. I mean the star that gives us warmth and light. We all in our own special way orbit around Ella. She is the ground under our feet and the air in our lungs.
nb: when I say ‘we all orbit around her’ I am NOT saying that Ella is fat because she isn’t, in fact she is perfection carved into a human form.
nnb: thinking about it, I want to retract the statement ‘Ella is the air in our lungs’; seeing as she smokes so many cigarettes that the air she exhales turns the end of the filter black, I don't think any of us should be inhaling anything when in her general presence
To conclude, I’m not even going to consider this as a possibility. You might as well say that Bigfoot wrote it.
(I love how that is the picture of Griffin that the BBC decided to use on their story; the one with him staring with his weird mismatched eyes like someone out of a Gabrielle lookalike competition)
Griffin and Irving are these two brers who have been invited to speak at the Oxford Union about Freedom of Speech. Griffin is the head of the political party the BNP, which as far as I can tell is like the Boy Scouts except they don’t like uppity black people and immigrants, and Irving is some historian who says that the holocaust didn’t happen. Frankly, as a blue eyed blonde haired white dude, they technically should have no beef with me and I don’t really understand them bonding together to write mean posts on the internet about me. However, when it was announced that they were speaking, the whole university collectively weed its pants, threw its toys out of the pram, had a tantrum, etc, and since then there have been innumerable vociferous arguments, marches, rallies and newspaper columns protesting the obscenity of having these two angry young men speaking at Oxford. Today we were all sent an email warning us that Griffin was quite likely to bring “group of extremist party members who are violent against people who look like they aren't straight white caucasians” who would run through the streets and set fire to black people and threaten Hassan’s Kebab Van and stuff; like I said, I’m aryan as hell so I’m not that bothered (in fact I might join in, just for jokes) but I guess with all the rivers of hate that are unleashed wherever Griffin and Irving go, there is a chance that they probably could have had the evil inside them. So, uh... let’s give them like, a 6% chance of having written it.
For: She has been getting pretty annoyed that I’ve not called her from University for the past four or five weeks. Against: I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know how to use a computer.
I don’t know why. He just looks pretty angry. And also kind of like a virgin, which would explain why he’s posting stuff anonymously on the internet at 2 in the morning. Hmm. On second thoughts, seeing as I got this picture off google images by typing “angry pathetic virgin”, it’s probably not him.
Ah, the magical Someone Else. Guilty of pretty much everything that is wrong in the world. I’m tempted to pretty much ascribe the culprit to being a member of this group. But still doesn’t answer the question… WHO? WHO? WHO? Because, as much as I wrack my brains, I honestly can’t think of anybody who I have pissed off THAT much in the past four months. I’ve been remarkably good. An angel, to be honest. Perhaps it’s Satan who is getting annoyed that I’ve stopped on the downpayments for my minifridge. That could be it. Why do I have a secret enemy? That's a bit worrying.
* * *
So the situation was that there was a mean comment on my blog and I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Respond, or not? Or turn the other cheek? Hmm. Well the fact was, I’d thought to myself previously “I should be less of a cock on the internet to people” after the whole debacle of, ooh, the last 9 months of my life. And so I was torn – respond, or give up the sweet and peaceful internet lifestyle I had adopted and grown to love?
In fact it was kind of like one of those Jean-Claude Van Damme movies, when Jean-Claude had quit the marines to be a fisherman or to whittle chairs or whatever, and then his old army captain comes along and is all like “Jean-Claude these guys have kidnapped the president” and JC is like “Sorry dude, you know I don’t do that any more” but then the army dude’s like “Yeah but they also kidnapped your sister” and then JC stands up in slow motion and throws down his fishing rod and ties a bandanna around his head and is like “This time it is personal” and then he roundhouse kicks a tree until it falls over (by the way I can do that now that I am a red belt at kickboxing).
Of course in this case it was more like “Tom, some guy wrote a mean comment on your blog comments, we need you to redress the balance and write a horrible blog about THEM", and I’m like “Sorry, I don’t do that any more” but then they were like “But the commenter called Ella a bitch” and I’m like “RAAAWR PLAYTIME IS OVER BITCHES” and I kick over a table of playing cards.
So I tied my metaphorical bandanna around my metaphorical head and settled down to write some kind of ribald and no doubt HILARIOUS rejoinder to that comment. But lo and behold, to my surprise I saw that other people had already been there and done it for me!
“At least put your name to it, you vicious bitch.”
“Only a moron would spell 'already' with two 'l's.”
“lets be honest we all know who that comment is.... hes a nob.”
“Hey anonymous cocksucker, put your fucking name on your piece of illiterate shit. You're the skidmark of a worm-ridden dog dragging its arse along the floor.”
“Anonymous,if you dislike this blog so much why did you go through it and count how many times he mentioned Ella? Get a life.”
Etc.
I have to say I was touched at the number of people coming out of the woodwork to leap to my defence. I’m not even joking it was absolutely worth having some anonymous dude insult the pants off of me, just to see all anonymous internetters leaping to my defence and saying how much they liked the blog! I love you guys.
xxx
ONE MORE THING. My final point to note about the content of that letter.
Point the Seventh: The whole thing about me being shit with girls. I’m sorry, anonymous friend, this is the only point that I’m gonna have to disagree with you on. Frankly, I am dynamite with the ladies. In fact, I might as well take this opportunity to wipe that smile off of your face with the news: I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND. That’s right. I really do. No joking. Somebody who was totally a girl (I know because the comment was highlighted in pink) wrote on my facebook Honesty Box wall that I was ‘fittttt’. Notice all the ‘t’s. There are five ‘t’s. That is how fit I am. Five times as fit. As a normal person. It’s getting pretty serious now, actually. I reckon she’ll tell me her name in a couple of weeks. So stick THAT in your Bacardi and sip it, Mr Anonymous.
I hope that it was Ella that Honesty Boxed me. Man it’d be so wicked if Ella and I fell in love and then we got married and lived in a little house with really good ventilation. Mmm. Ella Ella Ella. ELLA. She has now been mentioned 18 times in this post which, according to my official Ella-counter, is some kind of a record. 19 times now.
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