Twitnic, a conversation . . .

– You’re looking very red today, Philip . . . catch the sun at twitnic?
– No, Harvi, it’s my inner jubilation glowing through . . . what do you think!
– I think russet becomes you. Goes well with that blue shirt. Very patriotic.
– Patriotic my arse! Don’t let’s argue about this again . . . the only people I know with the remotest sense of excitement about all that hereditary hoo-hah this week were colonials, crazies, corporate hospitality cronies . . . and you.
– Ooh, you’re gonna be in trouble for that! . . .
– Pfft . . .
– You just don’t know how to have fun. Can’t you get in the spirit for once?
– I know fun. Fun comes seventy-five millilitres at a time from the less than half price rack in Morrisons. We had lots of fun at twitnic.
– Ha, we certainly did. Gallons and gallons of fun.
– I think we went to replenish our stock of fun at least three times.
– But it wasn’t just about the booze, was it? . . . Seriously Philip, I think you may have a problem.
– Didn’t see many people sipping tea at twitnic, Harvi. Wine and beer . . . then more beer and wine . . . just the way it should be.
– Certainly were a sociable bunch though, don’t you think?
– Indeed they were. And our little crowd were the most sociable bunch of them all, everyone came over to talk to us.
– Ha ha, yes they did . . . we had the only beer opener in the park, of course we were popular.
– I still don’t get why beer doesn’t come in screw caps.
– Must be to encourage conviviality and sharing.
– You could be right . . . didn’t seem to need much encouraging, did they?
– No, lovely people . . . Kirsty must know a heck of a lot of people. There must have been, what, nearly a hundred? . . .
– Didn’t count, but I think there were over a hundred tickets taken . . . but that doesn’t mean Kirsty knew them all exactly . . . it’s a twitter thing.
– What do you mean, Philip? I don’t understand . . . twitter thing?
– Twitter, Harvi . . . remember twitter? That thing you keep asking about . . . it’s how folks in the twenty first century make friends and influence people . . . you really ought to give it a go you know . . . you could use some more friends.
– With friends like you, Philip . . . so, anyway, Kirsty organised all that through twitter? . . . I’ll have to ask her about that . . . hard to believe she got all those people there just by tapping out a few tweets. There must be something else to it . . . I’m sure you could lend me a book?
– For once Harvi, no, I couldn’t. There’s no book, not really . . . you just go on twitter, be nice, be interesting, be willing to do stuff, and you get to meet other nice, interesting people who do stuff . . . there’s no secret . . . might be a bit hard in your case . . . you have “interesting” issues . . . you can’t hide behind a fancy shirt on twitter you know.
– My shirts are recognised everywhere I go . . . it’s a kind of personal branding . . . everyone mentioned Arjun’s shirt at twitnic . . . like father, like son.
– Arjun? . . . you brought a kid to twitnic? . . . don’t remember that.
– Look at the photo from Dock Street . . . he’s right in front of you . . .
– . . . So he is . . . I must have had so much fun I missed him entirely . . . hope he had a nice time too.
– He had a wonderful time. Told his mum all about the people he’d met and the funny games they played . . . ended up going home with a bow and arrow and a whole barrage of shiny balloons . . . wants to know when the next one is . . .
– Well, Harvi, get the kid on twitter! . . . Couldn’t do a worse job than you.
– You know what, that’s not a bad idea . . . how do I sign him up? . . . Don’t worry, I’ll ask Kirsty.