Bloggers get on my tits.

Bloggers get on my bloody tits, they really do. 

Just because they have a bit of free Internet space that they can’t resist filling with self-serving narcissistic bullshit and selfies that expose vastly more flesh than is appropriate, doesn’t make them a fitness guru, a nutritionist, a model, a shining example to women/fats/gays/[insert convenient “oppressed“ minority here], or a campaigning icon. 

It doesn’t make them an expert in anything, it doesn’t give them credibility or validation and it certainly doesn’t mean that other people need to take them seriously. It just means that they are a motor-gob with a hugely over-inflated sense of their value in the world. 

The X-Factor generation, where the anticipation that easy and totally unjustified fame and fortune is not only possible but expected, have taken over and journalism has been replaced by millions of little vanity videos. 

It used to be bad enough when this sort of thing was limited to addicts of high-caffeine energy drinks, but now every illiterate, incoherent moron seems to feel the need to broadcast to a disinterested world their every bowel movement. 

Stop it. Just stop it. [Copies and pastes text into my blog…]

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