The Wedding Tweeter

I’ve started my own business, I’ve found a gap in the market and I’ve dived in like a Messerschmitt on speed. I have become the World’s first Wedding Tweeter, or should that be Twedding Tweeter? Why do the inhabitants of Twitter world insist on putting a ‘tw’ in front of words to make them twitterfied? I mean we are a persecuted bunch as it is, all our non tweeting friends think we’re stupid or narcissistic anyway. They don’t understand Twitter, so let’s not make it worse tweople.

Anyway, my concept is that with so many people belong to social networking sites now, be it facebook, twitter or BLAH BLAH (ask your kids), they actually start to consider their on-line friends to be real friends. Not real enough to waste a wedding invite on obviously, especially at £110 per head and rising, but real enough to want to share their special day with.

This is where I come in. For a small fee plus a free bar at the reception, I will provide the following services.

1. Set up a Twitter account for the lovely couple, i.e. @DesperateAndRichGetMarried. They can now distribute this account amongst their friends, and add worrying about their follower count to the list of things keeping them awake at night. This list includes hoping Uncle Malcolm hasn’t fallen off the wagon again, assigning an usher to steal his drinks if he has, and wondering is the missionary the traditional wedding night position or would the reverse cowgirl be OK?

2. I will then use your account to keep all your followers up to date with the proceedings. This would look a bit like the following (excerpts taken from @BaldingAndFlabbyGetMarried).

• The @groom is looking nervous. Not sure what he is regretting more, having the stag night last night or the pink tie.
• Just spotted @Bestman being sick in the font. Hope nobody is being baptised tomorrow.
• Nice save, @Usher1 has found and confiscated @UncleMalcolm’s hip flask.
• Sneaky @UncleMalcolm has a sock flask, this won’t end well.
• The @GroomsFather and @GroomsFathersNewGirlfriend are arguing with @GroomsMother and @GroomsMothersToyboy over the seating arrangements.
• Compromise found. @GroomsFather and @GroomsMother on front row, @GroomsFathersNewGirlfriend and @GroomsMothersToyboy on row 2.
• Oh dear, the @Vicar is getting impatient now, @Groom checks watch again, @Bestman makes a phone call to bookie
• Action at the back of the church, @Bride has arrived, report on dress to follow.
• Dress is a beautiful flowing white number, unfortunately it looks like the number 8.
• On the positive side, at least she has managed to fit in it, looks like the ‘being sick for a week’ diet has worked.
• RT @BitchyUninvitedWorkColleague Her dress looks like it contains a bag of ferrets fighting to escape
• RT @JealousExBoyfriend White, are you having a laugh, ask @Usher2 about the time that we (the following has been edited in the name of good taste)
• Preliminaries under way, hymns, blah blah, why are these things so long, just cut to the chase @Vicar.
• Really should have used the toilet before I came in.
• Really shouldn’t have tweeted that.
• A nervous silence as @Vicar asks is there any reason that they should not be married.
• Several heads are shamefully looking at the floor, including @Usher2 @CousinJimmy and @GroomsSister
• Phew, everybody remains silent and the deed is done.
• It’s official. Congratulations to @MrandMrsGoatsbottom
• RT @SlowWorkmate So that’s why we call him Ivor. I always wondered about that
• Time for the final prayer. Top prank by @Bestman as the soles of @grooms shoes reveal the words HELP and ME.
• Prank backfire. It appears the @Bestman does not know his left from right as the shoes read ME HELP.
• In the name of good taste @GroomsFathersNewGirlfriend and @GroomsMothersToyboy have been excluded from official photo line-ups.
• In the name of bad taste @GroomsFathersNewGirlfriend and @GroomsMothersToyboy have sneaked into presbytery for a quick grope.
• Just enough time for all males to check their phones for the footy scores.
• Just enough time for all females to reapply their make up with a trowel.
• Time for the reception and a well earned pint.
• Bucks Fizz, are you having a laugh, when will people learn?
• Tweeting interrupted to help guests find the real bar, hopefully one that has a TV showing Gillette Soccer Saturday
• Time for speeches, these will be abbreviated due to restrictions of 140 characters.
• Wish the real ones had those restrictions.
• From @FatherOfBride Lame joke, childhood mishaps, welcome to family, serious bit, dead grandmother, tears, lame joke, ushered into seat
• From @Groom Drunken sweats, My Wife and I, applause, lame joke, nervous glances to Wife, drops notes, finishes abruptly
• From @Bestman Slurred, dubious content, bad taste joke about sheep, worse taste joke about @Usher2, nervous looks all round, falls over
• Well that’s that then folks, hope you enjoyed the wedding. Don’t forget to log in for the reception (over 18’s only)

3. Using TwitPic (or y.frog if you consider yourself a princess), I will post beautiful pictures of all the momentous moments, as they happen. These will be slightly blurry as I will be using my iPhone, but your friends will just think you have hired a pretentious photographer straight out of art school, so that’s OK.

4. Via Blip.fm I will let your friends listen to all the great tunes your wedding DJ is playing including your first dance. Unless of course your first song is ‘Angel’ by Robbie Twilliams, in this case I will change it to ‘Smack my Bitch up’ by the Prodigy. You will then either look retro cool or just ironic, depending on how many of your S&M loving details you accidentally tweeted about when drunk.

5. Supply a framed A4 wordcloud of the days, and evenings if readable, tweets. All done tastefully in black and white, in the classic Goudy Bookletter 1911 font.

 

I think I’m onto a winner here, I’m even thinking of franchising it out for a small fee of course. Bookings are now being taken and the weekends are being snapped up fast. For all enquires re payment plans or deletion of dubious photos, please contact me at the lifeandtimesofahousehusband@gmail.com or by comment at this blog.

This time next year I’ll be a millionaire, or in prison.

Your Worst Nightmare

Oh my God, I am 20 minutes into a power cut, and I have started to lose the will to live already. Katy and Mate, having been deprived of their Disney fix, are running round the house screaming. Every now and then Mate will stop and hand me the remote control, his look says "Dad you can fix anything, make it work." He can't say these words yet, but the constant prodding gets his point across. I have now realised how often I use the TV as a punishment tool, my "quieten down, or I will turn this off". This now has no meaning or impact. I am Superman and the lack of electricity is my kryptonite.

I am thankful for Dawn's laptop, with which I am writing this now, but the lack of internet is starting to have an effect on me. I can't Google kryptonite, so I have no idea if I have spelt it right or not. Where else can I find this information? When I write I like the quiet distraction of tweetdeck flashing away in the top corner, letting me know every time one of my friends has something to say. The challenge of being witty in 140 characters started me writing in the first place, can I still write without it? I guess you will be the judge of that, once I eventually get to upload this that is.

35 minutes now. They have told me on the phone that it will be 3pm at the earliest, it's only 11.37 now, I must take a deep breath and calm down. It's not the end of the world is it, is it? Oh apparently it is, well it is to Dawn, as Mate has just drawn on her piece of paper. Give me strength, someone give me strength.

I know, let's go out for a walk, that will kill some time. Oh somebody please give me a break. It is the end of July and the rain is torrential. Is this a test of some kind, am I being filmed? Or has some cosmic deity decided its 'Poop on J' day? I'm not a bad bloke really. OK, I do take the piss a bit, can have a caustic tongue when it suits me, but surely that does not deserve this.

Has just occurred to me that my friends on twitter won't know what's happened to me. They must be wondering by now, I was in the middle of at least 3 conversations. At least one of them must be thinking about me. I wonder if I can plug the phone line straight into the laptop?

Nope, that hasn't worked, and now the kids have found the broadband router, they think it is the answer to the problem, and that shaking it will turn the power back on. Stupid kids, I tried that half an hour ago, of course it won't work. I hate this laptop, why is it so hard to go back and put a missing apostrophe in?

This unfinished twitter conversation is really starting to bug me now, there must be a solution. Eureka, I will ring my mate Andy, he is the only person in the real world who has tried it. He gave up after one day, but not before I introduced him to a few of my virtual friends. He can let them know I am safe, and not to worry.

Have just come off the phone to Andy, all sorted, I feel a bit better now. Oh my god, am I an addict, I can't be, don't be silly. Next problem, the kids, this one won't be so easy.

They are running round in circles at the moment, they seem to be happy. It has been so long since running around in circles made me happy. Nowadays it just drives me nuts, why and when did that change. Wouldn't it be nice to go back to that time?

Mate has just trod on a brick and is screaming, my questions have been answered. It seems that if we keep our shoes on forever, then we will continue to enjoy running around in circles. Wow, that's deep, can't wait to tweet that one. Bugger, how can I?

It's 12.10pm now, if I can just hold the kids out to 12.30pm then its lunchtime. Ten minutes of relative quiet, not long to go. I have just caught a look at my reflection in the laptop's screen. I look like that famous painting by Munch I think, 'Scream', best Google that to check. Damn. Just when you think you have got over the pain, something pops up and slaps you in the face to remind you. Is this what grieving is like? I'm not comparing the two of course, but I do have a sense of loss. I think I'm getting a migraine.

Is 12.15 too early for lunch? It's a one off, am sure it won't matter too much, yes let's do lunch. Whilst they eat I can have a nice cup of coffee and read the paper. No instant coffee, perfect. Just caught myself stamping my foot in temper, trod on brick, all is clear again.

Have beers in the fridge, which is off, of course. I will have to drink them before they spoil. A silver lining at last, three of them in fact. That's better, there are no problems only solutions. Who said that? Caught myself in time then, it was my brother in law Mr Cliché-Man, one of his favourites that one.

Have 55 minutes battery life left on laptop. That only takes me up to 1.24pm, Mate won't have even gone for his nap by then. Will turn it off for a while, read the paper or something. I still have the Sunday Times to get through, that should do nicely.

Back again, it is now 1.45pm and by some kind of strange computer mathematics, there are only 39 minutes of battery left. How can turning something on and off take 16 minutes of battery? I had just got myself into a calm state of mind (putting Mate upstairs for his nap helped), and now this whole battery situation has got me all het up again.

The sun is out now, maybe I should go out in the garden, do some weeding or something. I love listening to opera when I'm gardening, makes me feel high-brow, and sure confuses the neighbours. I was looking for my Madam Butterfly CD when we lost the power, have found it now but of course I can't listen to it can I. Maybe this is Verdi's cosmic revenge on me for not choosing La Traviata to listen to. Were him and Puccini rivals back in the day? I would look it up but, well you know the end of that sentence.

Whilst I have be daydreaming about a Puccini/Verdi sing off X-factor style, Katy has grabbed anything not nailed down and piled it up in the middle of the room. According to the battery remaining clock, I have only been tranced out for six minutes, how did the pile of debris get so high? Do all laptop users time their day by how much battery is left? Do they say to each other things like "Meet you in Starbucks at 58 minutes remaining"?

I think I may be going insane. I always thought insane would be a loud thing to happen, come at you all kicking and screaming. When in actual fact it is a stalking lion, creeping up on an unsuspecting Gnu. Katy is now whispering to Mount Debris. I can't hear what she is saying but I bet it's about me. I have taken away her basic human right to electricity, and Playhouse Disney.

Offered her a lolly pop to test the waters, she just gave me a sad look and said that she only has them when she watches TV, apparently it's not the same now.

Have just spent 8 battery remaining minutes convincing Katy to have a lolly pop. In the end I had to agree to cut some flowers from the hanging baskets to put in her flower press, just so she would agree to put a huge lump of sugar in her mouth. I think a lack of electricity is altering my perception. I am too confused to know if this is a good or bad state of affairs.

Panic has set in, the '10 minutes of battery life remaining' icon has started flashing. It's only 2.30pm, what am I going to do. This laptop is the only link with my old life, those pre-boredom years. I can't let go of that, I'm not ready to move on.

Have officially hit the bottom rung of the insanity ladder. Just took a photo of the screen to remind me of the old days. I am worried that the ten minutes promised will not be accurate, must save before it's too late. Done. Should I save after each sentence? What if my final line is a real good one and I have not sav

Imagination more important than Knowledge?

The imagination can be a scary thing you know, it only takes a couple of random thoughts to mix together, and brew up overnight, and you can end up with some of the craziest dreams. I think one of the hardest parts of being a parent, is the bad dreams you have about your kids. I have had some proper doozys, and they very rarely end well, but I had one the other night that was not par for the course.

I dreamt it was a Sunday morning, and we had popped around my Mum and Dad’s house in Barking. Some socially irresponsible preacher had knocked on the door, wanting to spread the word of the Lord. Always a pet hate of mine, I mean, if I had wanted to be preached to on a Sunday, I would have just gone to church, and let a professional do it. I can understand the market for mid-week door to door preaching, but on a Sunday, know your market mate.

Anyway Reverend Disruption, knocked on the door, my Mum answered, Katy bolted out of the door, and started running like her pants were on fire. The bottle neck created by the preacher trying to give us a leaflet, wasted precious seconds, but was dissipated by a Karate chop delivered by my Mum to his shoulders and down he went (way to go Mum, I didn’t know you had it in you). I jumped over him and started running after her. I looked up the road just in time to see her turn a corner, damn she was fast. I got to the corner, had a choice of 4 directions, and could see no sign of her. If we lived in less of a concrete jungle, I could have used all my Cub Scout knowledge and followed the trail, but I guess there is only so much you can change in a dream.

I had a brainwave, I ran back to the house and turned my Mums laptop on (told you she was cool didn’t I!) I opened up my twitter account and got typing, all the while remembering the 140 character rule. I typed the following:

Child called Katy missing from Barking area. Please help with search and RT this. Photo at http://www.twitpic.com/2s8nv 07873280109 if seen

I know most non-users of twitter do not understand it, and think it is just a bunch of sad old people, telling a load of people they don’t know, inane facts like “making breakfast”, or “putting pants on and getting dressed”, or even as spotted yesterday “#noundiessunday “(you know who you are, shameless). But in my heart of hearts, I know it is more than that. It can be used as a power for good, and not a power to spam, or so I hoped as I hit the tweet button.

So whilst the rest of my family was out searching, there was I manning the Laptop and praying for a miracle. For 15 minutes (that felt like 15 hours), nothing happened, then all of a sudden I started seeing Katy’s name and photo all over the web. Twitter has a ‘Trending Topics’ list running down the side of it. It is the top 10 things people are talking about on twitter, and is updated in real time. For example, today’s list includes Eurovision, Star Trek, and #3turnoffwords. All of a sudden ‘Katy missing’ started trending to the top. There were now more people talking about my daughter than Angels and Demons! Take that Dan Brown, make a conspiracy about that if you can (I hope he doesn’t read this, as I am a huge fan, honest!)

I wandered outside in a mild daze. Walking to the top of the road, everything sounded slightly too noisy for a Sunday morning. I did not realise you could actually hear urgency, but that is what my ears were picking up, all around me was the sounds of footsteps and serious conversations, and yet there was no one in sight. I reached the spot where I had originally halted my search, and looked up for the first time. There was a sea of humanity, all walking with a sense of purpose, as far as the eye could see (which was not far due to the tears of fear and hope that clouded my vision). All of them looking for my daughter, all summoned by the Great God of Twitter.

There is a 3 floored block of flats nearby, and I climbed the stairs to the top, and went onto its flat roof. It reminded me of standing on the bridge by the old Wembley Way, after a cup final (We lost 3-2 to Luton???) and looking back at the crowds exiting the stadium. A similar scene faced me now, and the people all had the same grim expression as back then as well. Except this time my heart was full of hope, instead of hate at a missed penalty. They were looking under cars, over fences, and even in wheelie-bins. People were knocking on doors, getting people to check their gardens, and then those people would also join the search.

This went on for about an hour, every minute feeling like a day, I just did not know what to do. I kept walking around in a circle like a headless chicken, no use to anyone. Suddenly the noise and the atmosphere changed. A wave of smiles and back slaps came rippling toward me. It made no sense, what was going on. The smiles turned to laughter, and I just looked uncomprehendingly at the wall of people in front of me. The story took another biblical turn, when the people parted, as if before the Red Sea, with me as Moses. There emerging from the ever widening gap, was my soot covered daughter, in the arms of the oldest, most toothless, and in my eyes, most beautiful man in the world.

The old man simply tipped me a wink, placed Katy in my arms and said “Yours I believe.” My fellow twitteratti would describe these as #3hotwords, but to me they meant just one thing. Safe.
I knew this feeling of happiness and relief would, at some stage, turn to anger at her running away in the first place, but for this moment I would just wallow in the scent of her, and think about punishments later.

I woke up a bit more dazed and confused than usual, be that because of the dream, or be that the fact it was 7am and Mate had allowed me an extra hour in bed. Who knows, but I do know that Katy got a lot more hugs that day. Oh, and I put a sign up on my door saying “No Jehovah’s Witnesses”, better safe than sorry.