Following encourages following

It sounds like something the King of the Sheep would say doesn’t it? But following really does encourage following. I’d like to welcome Lolren Lollipop on board the good ship Newsdesk as my latest excellent follower.

As regular readers will know, or readers who read the last post anyway, I decided that I would use a highly disingenuous method of attracting more followers. Until now, I have grown additional followers purely organically, that’s to say I didn’t really seek out followers, they found me. However, as a lot of farmers have discovered, going organic is not necessarily that healthy for the old profit margins. It might sound nice, but in truth maybe Mother Nature really does sometimes need a helping hand. Ipso facto, so does this blog.

I’ve noticed, along with Mr Coleman, that on Twitter, I have a massively high number of followers compared with here on the blog. I also noticed that when people follow me on Twitter, I will follow them right back and as I get more followers so more join and so on and so forth, it’s a self-perpetuating upward helter-skelter of followization. Though, my Twitter Tweets are effectively just small bite size chunks of the blog posts, so you’d think the blog would be more popular, right?

So by applying the same Twitter-based growth strategy logic to this blog, I should be able to cause an upward helter-skelter of followization. I call this new social media theory – Barry’s Theory of Following, or Sheep Syndrome. I haven’t quite decided what to call it as it goes. BTF (Barry’s Theory of Followization) is a catchy abbreviation by is possibly too self-explanatory while Sheep Syndrome is not only clever piece of anthropomorphic observation but also a nice piece of alliteration. However, it suffers as an abbreviation.

Anyhoo, I followed a whole bunch of cool looking blogs and guess what?! Yep, one of those cool bloggers followed me right back pushing me back up to 12 followers!

Can I can a woop-woop?

Cool beans. Lolren’s blog, C'Est La Vie, Mon Cheri, has 15 followers (including yours truly) and is all about make-up. I can’t say I’ve ever worn the stuff, It’s funny isn’t it readers, if I put make-up on I’d probably look like some sort of freaky transvestite, but when Gill puts her face on, she actually looks more feminine than without.

Anyway, I guess I’ll sit tight and see if any of the other cool bloggers come on board. If they don’t, I guess I’ll ditch-em and follow a few others for a while. Does that make me a shallow man, transparently trying impress upon the world that I’m important virtually to make up for inadequacies in the real world or does it make me, like so many of my Twitter followers claim to be, a master of social media, able to engage with the web-based influencers, using subtle viral guerrilla marketing techniques?

It’s something to chew over for a while eh?

Champions league final tomorrow, so I doubt I’ll post.

Newsdesk prediction: Man Utd 3-2 Barcelona.

Twitter is rubbish; discuss.

It's a Bank Holiday today. At the moment though, it seems as though every day is a Bank Holiday. In more ways than one! Sounds like Heaven yeah!? (Not the gay nightclub.) But when you're looking for work the Bank Holiday just means yet one more day you can't spend looking for work. The things is, I want to work, I really do, but there are so many obstacles standing in my way.

After my disasterous date with Gill I decided that I'd be the bigger man and text her first to see what was up. I didn't get a response within the hour so I texted again, then again, in the end I practically begged her to respond. 'U all rite? Everythin OK,' I said, 'Positive' came the one word response. Guess that means she's OK and just needs a bit of space. So I've decided not to call or text her for a week or so, just to let the dust settle. Women are a slave to their hormones.

With that in mind, I guess it's time to put the focus back on me. I don't like to just talk about me all the time, I'm just not that vain, but if you don't look after yourself, who will?

I've decided that I need to go on a recruitment drive for the blog. Because if I can demonstrate that I have lots of regular readers than I really can take up some genuine sponsorship opportunitties or possibly, as Mr Coleman says, I can turn my blog into an award winning sitcom like the utterly hilarious Two Pints of Lager. However, there are some strange anomolies in Webland, as also pointed by Mr C.

"It is indeed hard to explain why such a gripping blog seems to be the exclusive pleasure of a Frenchman and a semi-retired schoolteacher. You have almost 1,600 followers on Twitter yet only 11 for your vastly more entertaining life-drama blog. I just can’t understand it – just what is wrong with people these days?"

I'm not sure Mr Coleman, really, it's a mystery to me. My blog posts are rich and enlivening, I'm bearing my sole to the world, there are nice pictures, genuinely informative and entertaining comments, a poll and links to other sites, whereas on Twitter all I really do is post a link trying to bring people to the blog and I occaissionally send a quick reply to Jim (my most recent blog follower) or Mess. Still people seem to be signing up in droves to receive adverts driving them to my website. ODDLY, the people who follow me on Twitter all seem to have mini-pitches of their own attempting to bring me to their website. I'm starting to think Twitter has been highjacked my self-promotionists and is full of nothing but spam.

The thing is, when someone comes and follows me on Twitter I usually follow them straight back again, so while nearly 1600 are following me, I too am following over 1500. It's a bit like when people follow this blog, I always follow them back. It's just that not many people have the time, talent or ability to create blogs, while creating Tweets is as easy as coughing up phlegm. Perhaps, if I'm trying to get people to follow this blog, I need to follow a few other more likeminded intellectual Blogists. Maybe when I follow them, they'll check me out and follow back! I've got nothing to lose. If they don't follow me back, I'll just ditch them like a used lover.

This sounds like a disingenuous method of upping my numbers, I know, but that's advertising for you isn't it?!

Gotta go, meeting Dave the roofer for a few pints in the Imperial.

l8ers
Newsdesk

A faltering restart

Went to meet up with Gill last night in the Moon Under Water, it's a Weatherspoons pub, so not exactly a classy joint, but with my financials in the state they're in, I need to play it sensible. I got myself a pint of lager and settled down at a spare table. Gill was nowhere to be seen.

You've got to watch yourself in the Moon, if you're sitting alone for more than five minutes you'll almost certainly draw the attention of Seamus. He's in there all day, every day. God knows where he finds the money, but he pisses it all up the wall and won't stop talking about the 'old country'.

I was practically at the end of my pint when Gill walked in, "good timing," she said and went to the bar without even taking her coat off. Result. Actually, I really don't appreciate being kept waiting in the Moon, Gill knows this, but I managed to hide my anger.

"Sorry, I'm late," she said as she sat down with the drinks.

I told her it was OK and that luckily she'd arrived before Seamus had joined me. She laughed looking around, "just like old times eh!?"

I had to smile. It really was. I tried to make a bit of small talk, told her about my email from Kenny and a new charity thing that I've got in mind (women love charity) - I've always had a good head of hair, but over the last few years, it has been thinning a touch, so I thought I'd shave it all off and at the same time raise a bit of money for Tibet. I was thinking of booking out a pub and making a bit of party of it. I thought Gill would be all over the idea, prior to the breakup she'd been nagging me for ages to get a haircut and grow up. But she didn't even acknowledge what I'd said.

I raised the idea of renting out and moving back to Lincoln for a while (thought it might be too soon to suggest she move in...!). "Have you still not got a job?" she asked. But I'm better than Blockbusters, that was only ever a temporary measure anyway. I can't just take any old job, I need a challenge. Besides there's a global recession on, so finding work is easier said than done.

I'd rattled through my second drink fairlt sharpish and got up to go to the bar to get myself another pint, Gill had bearly touched her orange juice, "fancy a refll?" I said, "a bit of chardonney?" I didn't want to push it too much, but I figured the night wasn't exactly going as I'd planned, I'd probably need a bit of assistance from Cupid's Cup of Love. But Gill just asked for a glass of water "I'm late," she said.

I couldn't believe it, I'd kept this night totally free, had a shave, made all the conversation and now here she was turning up late and turning my drink offers down becasue she was late for something else. Two can play at this game, I thought, she clearly wasn't going to be coming back to my place for Round II, so figured I'd just see how long it was before she say anything. We sat there in stony silence for 15 minutes, I took a few sips. As predicted, she cracked eventually....it's a classic piece of negotiating that I learned while I was in sales.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" she asked.
"What! I've been trying to talk to you all night," I said.

She just shooked her had, gulped back the remainder of her drink and stood up to leave, "I'm late," she said.
"Well, you'd better get yourself off to wherever it is your going," I said, and she stormed out.

WOMEN. I will never understand them.

BND

Wooly-minded Liberals

Once again I was rudely awoken at about 10:30 this morning by the sound of someone stuffing uninvited pamphlets through the letterbox. Rather than right-wing propaganda, I was met by the tell-tale yellow of the Liberal Democrats.

As you'd imagine the LDs had taken a slightly different tack from the UKIP and BNP. They'd decided to use actual party supporters on their leaflet. They've been at this game for long enough to know you cannot fool the electorate with phony ballonie nonsense.

As a Citizen Journalist, it is my responsibility to remain and report from a neutral standpoint. I have a Duty of Care to my readers Mr Coleman and Mess, not to mention the countless tens of others who sometimes drop by the blog by mistake....

....speaking of which (if I may digress?), if you look over to the left sidebar you'll see my blog counter. A blog widget supplied by Blogpatrol. It doesn't just let me see how many visitors I've had it lets me 'drill down' into the stats. I can see all sorts of relevant information about my followers. I can see how many I've had, when they visitied, the computer browser they're using, which country they come from, their IP address and even what search terms they might have used to stumble across the ole bloggeroonie.

It's this last factiod that I'd like to develop further, and it is a factiod that I hope will bring joy to my loyal French friend Mess. Last month I was approached by a firm called WuTravel.com offering me riches beyond my wildest comprehension, at the time my other excellent follower, former school master Mr David Coleman (not the commentator) warned me against it, but Mess went one step further and did some research then sent me a Facebook email explaining that WuTravel.com is definitely an Internet fraud scheme.

Anyway, using the Blogpatrol tool I've noticed that countless tens of people have been drawn to the Barry Newsdesk blog as a direct result of Googling questions about WuTravel.com. Clearly, these people had also been approached by WuTravel.com and clearly they'd done a bit of digging and they came to this very blog and would have read Mess's words of wisdom warning them away from WuTravel.com. That, my friends, it Citizen Journalism in action!!!

Anyway, back to the Liberals, the flyer they sent features a good number of pictures of actual Liberals. They're NOT assamed! Take that BNP and UKIP. There's even a picture of Vince Cable, who looks like my friend Dave's Dad. I've always had a bit of a softspot for the Liberal party, ever since Paddy Ashdown (aka Pantsdown lol), then there was Charles Kennedy, he liked a drink, there's nothing wrong with that, and more recently Sir Menzies Campbell (any relation to Kenny from the Metro I wonder?) - whose name, GET THIS, is actual pronounced Ming. As in Ming the Merciless (he was bald too.....funny, you never saw them in the same room together).

The Lib Dems greatest ally is also their greatest foe. They can pretty much promise what the hell they like because they'll never get into power. It's one of the political ironies of our time.

Anyway, I'm starting to sound like a party political broadcast. I should really be out looking for a job, but it's very difficult to get motivated. If it wasn't for the fact I'm meeting up with Gill later I'd still be in my jimjams.

My own personal Credit Crunch is starting to bite. I'll have to meet up with Gill in Weathersoons I think. I was thinking about asking Gill to move in, it could well get me out of sticky patch mortgage-wise. Then again, I was also thinking that I might be able to rent out the place and go and look after Mum in Lincoln. I called her up the other night and Roger answered. I don't like it. He's getting his feet under the table. If I rent out this place, then I can stay up north for a while until I get myself a new job when the recession stops next year.

Catch you later one and all, reckon I can fit in some Pro Evolution Soccer before I need to go out.

Barry
x

Crooked politicians

Two days ago I mooted the possibility of becoming a politician. This idea came to be partly as a result of seeing just how much cash MPs can rake in these days and partly as a result of receiving a pamphlet promoting the BNP.

At the time I pretty much said I wasn’t going to bother with the BNP. This despite the flyer having some pretty compelling information about creating British jobs for British people and reducing taxes. Both of which policies I broadly agree upon.

There’s just something you can’t quite put your finger on though with these guys. They’re dodgy, pure and simple. And if you want proof that they really are dodgy you don’t even need to examine their expenses, look no further! The very flyer that they sent me (and no doubt countless others) is actually an almost completely fraudulent piece of DOGSHIT!

That’s right, yours truly has uncovered the truth. And, as is so often the case, the truth hurts. I’m socking it to the fascist scum. If you can’t be bothered to click in this link and see the evidence for yourself, the BNP has used stock images available on the Internet instead of using photos of their actual supporters.

It’d be like me using a picture of Kenny Campbell the editor of The Metro. It would be a BIG FAT LIE. I am not Kenny Campbell and the people used on the BNPs flyer are not BNP supporters (probably) – although if the people on the flyer are reading this and they are BNP supporters, I’ll gladly print a full correction and apologise.

FYI – the UKIP used a picture of Winston Churchill on their flyer, now if memory and Wikipedia serves me correctly Churchill was a actually a Liberal and a Conservative. He was not a member of the UK Independence Party. So their flyer is inaccurate too. Makes you wonder why they didn’t use a picture of Roberty Kilroy Silk?!

That’s the news.

Barrington

Ps. I’m thinking of using Barrington as my new news name. I think it has a certain gravitas.

A minor set back

True to my word, I emailed Kenny Campbell the editor (and his deputy editor David Monk) of Britain's brightest freesheet, The Metro, pitching my story idea of one simple man's quest to stride the corridors of power.

As regular readers will know, it was The Metro that inspired me to become a Citizen Journalist. It's the people's paper! (Hey Kenny, you can use that strapline if you like!)

Anyway, cutting a long story short, Kenny responded late last night (he was clearly up proofing today's issue). Here's what he had to say:

Dear Barry,

Many thanks for your email. Sorry to hear you've lost your job - I know the fact you're one of many doesn't make it any less unpleasant.

Perhaps not surprisingly, we're not commissioning new talent at the moment, even when someone appears to have some ability (and, believe me, I see plenty of submissions which demonstrate remarkable inability with the language...).

I had a look at your website and you obviously enjoy working with words, so stick with it, even though I can't use your abilities right now.

All the best, and good luck on the work front.

Kenny Campbell (Editor)

What a top guy. I know I've sent several pieces into The Metro and got nothing back (yet) but at least I'm on the big man's radar now. So it's probably only a matter of time before they give me a regular column.

It's great that the editor himself emailed me (I thought he might get the deputy to do all the menial stuff), just goes to show that Kenny is plugged into the world. He probably sits in his office, hawk-like, observing matters as they unravel all around the world.

Dave's probably too busy 'repurposing' that night's Evening Standard!

Yours in News

Barry

A little bit of politics

Life has just taken yet another cruel twist for yours truly. After a top weekend with Gill I returned to work re-energized. I was actually looking forward to walking into Blockbusters and being able to dismiss Amber for the common tart she really is.

BUT, when I walked in I saw not just Amber standing behind the counter but her so called boyfriend Leigh.

As regular readers (Mess and Mr Coleman) will know, I was personally responsible for Leigh's dismissal some time ago when the store's dickhead manager Richard entrusted me in the sensitive issue of funds being lifted from the till. Turns out it was Amber, not Leigh, and when I told Richard this, he dismissed the allegations with a laugh.

Anyway, I went into the backroom to get changed into my uniform (I never walk the streets dressed in the uniform, I've never been good with uniforms) and came face to face with Richard. He told me that I needn't bother getting changed tonight, because my services were not required.

I gussed that he must have had a change of heart over Leigh. Given the guy a second chance, and that since I'd been away he must have changed the rota. I said as mush to Richard. He just laughed and told me not to go home and not bother coming back, not to work and not even as a customer.

Suffice to say, I asked him what he was talking about. "I'm sacking you Barry," he said "for sexual discrimination."

At first I thought it was a joke, I even said "are you having a laugh?" But he wasn't smiling. "Do I look like I'm joking?" he asked, looking so self-satisfied I would have punched him, and I would have done too, except I'm pacifist.

SEXUAL DISCRIMINATION. I couldn't believe it.

After all that stuff with Sky when I first entered the world of Citizen Journalism, I know a thing about sexual discrimination. And Richard was going to have a fight on his hands for unfair dismissal. I'd already practically started spending the damages fee in my head, I'd get myself a car and maybe even take Gill away again. When it comes to sexual discrimination cases, you need actual proof before you can make those sorts of allegations. I'm no mug!

How could Richard possibly have proof that I'm a sexual deviant? For starters, I'm not and even if I was, I'd be smart enough to cover my tracks!

I told him I'd see him in court, but before I could leave, Richard went outside and then came back with Amber and Leigh. "Show him," said Richard. Amber took out her mobile phone.....

Flippin heck, she had all those messages that I'd sent her after my disasterous Internet date. I didn't bother arguing readers, even though I'm defintiely not a pervert, in black & white in a mobile phone inbox, it really did look like I'd been pestering Amber.

As I walked out of the room, Leigh barged me with his shoulder, "sleep wiv one eye open bruv," he said, just like what's her name did on Eastenders the other night. I'm not scared of bullies like him. But I didn't want GBH charges levelled against me as well, so I just walked out.

So, there you have it, I'm back on the old rock 'n' roll. Not that I've signed on yet, I've never been a benefit scrounger. Like my Mum says, there's plenty of work out there for those that want it. Only trouble it, I'm not sure what work I should get into.

When I walked in through the front door I noticed a couple of pamphlets lying on the floor, one for the BNP and the other for the UK Independence Party. It got me thinking, what with all that stuff in the papers recently about how much politicians can make by fidlling their expenses, it actually sounds like you can make a fair bit of money.

I've always been interested in politics, but never really considered becoming a professional MP. Maybe I should. I don't think I'll bother with BNP or UKIP (even though my Mum really loves Robert Kilroy Silk).

Having read both pamphlets I tend to agree with everything they've written, but I feel I have to say that I fundamentally disagree with all they stand for. Still, it's a free country and far be it from me to compare them both to the Nazi party. They're not racist they say, but then Hitler said that too and once he was elected into power he changed his tune pretty sharpish. I can well imagine Kilrory Silk and the game fencing off Golders Green and getting the locals to paint little stars of David on their front doors.

I'm not sure which political party to go for really. I might have to do a bit of research. Could well make for an interesting article for The Metro. I'll write them an email and see if they're interested in my 'pitch'. I need the cash after all, this f*cking mortgage won't pay for itself and what with all the migrant workers taking all the jobs, I could be looking for work for quite some time.

Your the honourable member for Newsdesk.
Barry