You’ve heard the heavyweight envelope drop through the letterbox. And you’ve seen the expensive-looking and elaborately designed wedding invitation that lurks within, in all its ornate glory. Now it’s time to reply to that invitation and get your RSVP back to the happy couple. (Ed: for the RSVP virgins out there, RSVP stands for ‘Répondez, s’il vous plait’, which is French for ‘please reply’ – we’re SO continental!).
But beware, replying to a wedding invite isn’t an occasion where a hastily typed ‘I’ll be there with bells on!!’ will suffice. As with all things relating to weddings, there’s a protocol to these things. So here’s how to reply without offending the bride, outraging the groom or starting a family argument over the seating plan.
- Be timely. More than anything you need to get your response back promptly and absolutely before the date shown on the invite. Yes we know you’re busy too, sitters to arrange all that, but planning a wedding can be like organising a small well-behaved coup – so give the couple a break and respond quickly.
- Be clear on who’s coming. If you’re bringing a guest, state who. Even if it’s obvious that it’s your new fella Jeff that you’ve been seeing for 3 months, don’t make the organisers guess whether it’s on or off again.
- Follow any instructions on the RSVP. If they want you to tick a box, tick a box (Ed; even though we know you’re not the kind that likes to be put in a box, as your cat Schrodinger keeps reminding you). If it says email someone’s mum, go ahead and email Mildred. If it says good old-fashioned post then, yes, you may need to make a trip to the shops to procure some stamps.
- Put a list of demands of what you need. You’re a guest, it’s nice that you’ve been invited. If you have certain dietary needs just state them clearly, but don’t insist on organic locally sourced free-range hummus. It’s their wedding, not yours.
- Try and weasel in extra guests. Be it your children or Great Auntie Betty from the outer Hebrides. The couple have taken a long time planning their numbers and have a budget they need to stick to. If it honestly clashes with something else, then just say so and regretfully decline. The last thing a couple needs in the run-up is you begging to bring extra people along, remember you’re not the only guest who might be in this predicament.
- Go, if you don’t want to. If you’re really not keen on the couple then don’t attend, just be polite, return your ‘no’ and leave them be. Very few couples will moan that their guest list is smaller.
- Get uppity, if you’ve clearly been put on a reserve list. Remember, in most instances, that family and close friends come first, then work colleagues, then George the friendly butcher. Don’t be put out – and if you are, don’t say so, just decline. (Ed: And if you’re George, please bring sausages).
If you’re a happy bride/groom reading this and worrying about how to write the perfect wedding invitation, we’ve got all the dos and don’ts you need here.
As you may have noticed from the wall-to-wall TV debates, never-ending media coverage and eager canvassing in the high street, there’s a general election taking place in the UK on 8 June. We’ve heard a lot of election promises, a lot of denouncing of other parties and their MPs and (on the whole) an awful lot of hot air from many of the candidates.
But if your party is going to convince the electorate to vote for you, you’re gonna need to get your promises, pledges and predictions down into a proper document and not just the back of a fag packet. That means rolling up your writing sleeves, finding the best biro in Westminster and writing a manifesto that sets out your vision for the future of the country, and makes your underlying political ideology clear to us, the already voting fatigued masses.
So, how do you get that manifesto on point? Here’s the dos and don’ts…
- Bag the best biro in Westminster. This will be difficult with all the stationery budget cuts and Peggy’s tight grip on the hidden chamber of pens, but you can do it.
- Set out the key foundations of your political beliefs. This is your soapbox (or eco-friendly cleaning product recyclable platform of choice) for explaining the core values and beliefs of your party, so make it concise, simple and to the point. It’s a chance to get your target voters on board and singing your praises from the rafters (and Wetherspoons), so make sure you grab the opportunity with both hands!
- Put your big ideas right at the start of the manifesto. No-one, apart from political journalists, will read every word of it, so make sure you capture people’s attention as quickly as possible.
- Use plain English and explain your ideas clearly. You’re not writing this for the Westminster clique, or the supporters in your own party: you’re writing this for the person in the street. So keep the language clear and unflowery and make sure that ‘Doris, 87, Burnley’ and ‘Sunny, 18, Uttoxeter’ have as much and idea about your policy on education as Tarquin and Tabitha, your research assistants.
- Fill your manifesto full of lies and half-truths. The electorate are not quite as dozy and complacent as you’d like to think. If you’re going to make a claim or quote a statistic it needs to have the source quoted and it needs to stand up to some scrutiny. That goes for radio interviews and sides of buses alike.
- Spend more time on the branding of the party and the press marketing than on the ideas contained in the manifesto. Yes, it’s important that the document looks engaging and makes the average punter want to read it, but if the pledges inside are a pile of undiluted hogwash then you’re rather wasting your time.
- Try to write a sequel to War & Peace. Detail is good, a breakdown of the finances and funding is excellent, but don’t make it so long that people are loath to even pick it up. In the digital age, attention spans are short, so keep it readable and to the point.
- Don’t include a photo of your illustrious leader kissing a baby/shaking hands with a construction worker/eating a bacon sandwich. They never pan out well and most of us seasoned voters can sniff out these PR photo opportunity before you can say ‘Jacob Rhys-Mogg in a hard hat’.
- Slag off your opponents. It makes you look cheap and bitchy. Concentrate on your values and your plans – let the others dig their own holes with their hot air and diversionary tactics.
If you’ve ever lived in a flatshare, student halls or a communal house, then you’ll be VERY familiar with the situation of your food ‘mysteriously’ disappearing in the night (and your flatmate being equally mysteriously covered in crumbs the next morning).
So when someone steals your cheese, or nibbles on your leftover sausage (Ed: easy, tiger!), we all know there’s only one course of action to take – and that’s writing a hugely passive aggressive note to your food-snaffling flatmate on your own choice of brightly coloured Post-it.
- Calmly express that you wish to discuss the current ‘missing food’ situation, without any accusations being thrown about, with a view to reaching a mutually agreeable compromise.
- Express in clear terms which item, or items, of food you believe they are ‘misappropriating’, how much said foodstuff cost you and how much you were looking forward to that last slice of leftover frittata.
- Offer to buy said items for them in the weekly shop, so you can both enjoy the taste experience without any ill feeling – as long as they come up with some spondoolies to cover the cost of having to re-buy the item.
- Suggest a house/flat meeting to discuss division of food stuffs, and suggest perhaps generic foodstuffs that you both/all enjoys are brought out of a household kitty (the financial kind, we don’t condone using the house cat as a rudimentary .
- Write ‘You bloody cock womble, you’ve eaten all of my bloody frittata again. Right, that’s it, I’m hiding the loo roll!!!!’ as this will undoubtedly aggravate the situation further (and will also mean you have to carry your loo roll around with you at all times).
- Change the house Wi-Fi network name to ‘youfrittatastealinbastard’ in a fit of pique and refuse to let the food kleptomaniac know the password. This may well be a great feat of revenge, but will also royally piss of everyone else in the house.
- Write a vengeful status update on Facebook/Twitter/Insta calling your hungry housemate the spawn of Satan as this will almost certainly be read by a mutual acquaintance who will @mention them, landing you in a whole pile of donkey doo.
- Forget that food can always be bought again, but that the happy vibe in your house is more difficult to replace…so try to resolve the food situation as peacefully as possible (or wait till there’s something really nice of theirs in the fridge and hide it).
The UK housing market isn’t exactly looking buoyant at the mo, but many of us are still looking to up sticks and put our house on the market. Whether that’s down to a change in personal circumstances, the need to free up capital or merely a lifelong search to find a mortgage rate that doesn’t leave you bankrupt and begging your parents for beer as payday approaches, there’s always going to be someone ready to nail a ‘For Sale’ board to the garden fence.
But how do you ensure that those nice people who can get a mortgage, or indeed the lesser spotted ‘cash buyer’, see your advert and want to buy your very own ‘mi casa’?
- Point out your home’s selling points. Yeah, obvious we know, but remember people from outside your locale may be looking to relocate, so if it’s great for families, has low crime rates, incorporates a beautiful balcony or its own well-established vineyard, make sure you mention it.
- If the house is ripe for redevelopment, investment and extending, let people know that it has potential. Some people LOVE a ‘project’ to work on, as even a cursory glance at Homes Under The Hammer on daytime TV will tell you.
- Put the damn postcode on the advert. There’s nothing worse than trying to locate your dream home and realising you’ve been looking in the wrong ‘Middle Codswallop’, or that your ideal house is conveniently situated next to Yorkshire’s largest sewage works.
- List the property’s best points first. Great selling points can include having a garden, a built-in garage, resplendent views of the countryside, large and roomy bedrooms or a brand spanking new Italian-designed kitchen that looks like it’s straight out of a brochure.
- Include details of the parking arrangements and transport links, number of rooms, heating type and whether there are local shops etc (Ed: No need to mention the regular lock-in at the pub, or that your home is located equidistant to diddly-squat).
- Say cosy, bijou, compact, or easy-to-maintain living space to describe your property – we all know this means postage stamp-sized lounge, where in one stride you can make a cup of tea/go to bed/have a wee.
- Use the phrase park/city/area adjacent – any savvy buyer will be aware that this means you’re trying to extend the reach of a catchment area to include your property, which actually sits in the not-so-attractive area five miles outside the city.
- Forget ancillary rooms and areas. If you’ve got a shed (and it’s staying) shout about it! Many a chap (or chapess) have been won over by the thought of escaping into the garden for peace and quiet with a copy of the Littlewoods’ lingerie pages and a tight grip on their power tool. (Ed: *makes mental note never to visit your shed*)
Weddings, eh. A social occasion much beloved by aunties, drunk uncles and teary eyed parents the world over – and for the rest of us an excuse for a massive shindig at dad’s expense.
If you and your life partner have decided to make it all official and tie the knot, you’re going to need to write that all important invite for the big day. Many months of preparation will go into making this day go with a bang, and equal amounts of care, attention and design skill will go into perfecting the ideal wedding invitation too.
So if you want to guarantee a speedy RSVP, and a lingering feeling that this is going to be the wedding of the century, here’s the lowdown on writing that invite.
- Be clear about the essential details: When? Where? What time? That’s the holy trinity you need to get right. Think ‘www or world wide web’, or ‘wedding will work’ if that helps keep this mantra clear in your head. It’s also probably a good idea to include your names, so people know who’s getting married. You can go formal if you want but remember your mates might not know you as the honourable Alistair and Archibald, so sticking with Al and Archie is just dandy.
- State that you need RSVPs (Ed: for the uninitiated, RSVP stands for répondez, s’il nous plait, which is swanky French talk for ‘please reply’). Ultimately, just state somewhere on the invite that you need replies and, most importantly, by when. Feel free to include an RSVP card, so people don’t have to raid their drawers for lavender scented notelets (yes, these we are a thing).
- Indicate if the invite is for the person or persons named only, or includes any ‘plus ones’. Standard etiquette is that plus ones are referred to as ‘and guest’, which hopefully negates your mate Sandra turning up with half the rugby club.
- Be very clear whether or not children are allowed. It’s perfectly reasonable to have an adult-only do, but be aware that this may limit your guests’ attendance, or time spent with you. But if you don’t want the little buggers running round the dancefloor singing the theme from Justin’s House, make it very clear.
- Put extra details like gift registries, directions or more info about the style of your wedding something other than the invite. You could even set up a wedding website, if that’s your kinda thing and you have lots of young, hip and trendy types coming along (Ed: get us – hip and trendy!). However, do ensure you also include this information on a standard bit of paper that can be passed to older or technophobe relatives who won’t know their internets from their fishnets.
- Be sappy and overly sentimental. Yes, we know romance is wonderful and you’ve found the love of your life and it’s all white doves, soulful sunsets and UTIs from all the shagging, but there is nothing more irritating to the rest of us than sickening displays of affection. We’re British (Ed: not you, overseas readers!) – so that’s reserved for dogs and John Lewis’ adverts.
- Use a font that’s so curly, antique or otherwise ‘fancy’ that no bugger can read it – you do want us to come don’t you?
- Get so worked up about etiquette that you mix up your Madams with your Sirs, your ten o’clock with your 2pm or your wedding breakfast for the evening buffet. Ultimately, you want this group of people, let’s call them A, to turn up to a place you have chosen, let’s call that B, at an appropriate time, let’s call that C – and generally you want to have a good time. So ultimately It’s Dear A, Please go to place B, at C and we’ll have a jolly old shindig, wot ho!
- Be too prescriptive – be it clothing choices, colour schemes or matter of arrival Your guests are here to enjoy your big day with you, not be part of a military siege to take over Marylebone Registry Office, complete with a SWAT team of ushers.
Yes, it’s National Limerick Day here in the UK today (12 May 2017)! The day is marked to commemorate the birthday of Edward Lear , the celebrated British writer, creator of literary nonsense and owner of one of the Victorian era’s most luxuriant and bushy beards – and the person who did most to popularise the poetic form we all know as the limerick.
Not sure you know what a limerick is? Here’s one we’ve just scribbled down for your delectation:
There was a young writer of words,
Whose prose became strange and absurd.
He tried to be clever,
With prose and whatever,
But his poems never quite scanned or rhymed… (Ed: bugger!)
So, if you think you can do better (and we’re pretty sure you can) here’s the dos and don’ts of writing your own limerick.
- Stick to the strict AABBA rhyming structure of a Limerick. Your first two lines, and your final line must rhyme, unlike our tragically bad example. And it’s this rhyme scheme that makes your first choice of place/location so critical – if your subject is from Constantinople, you’ve got to find TWO more rhymes for that (Ed: good luck!!).
- Work with the original conceit of ‘There once was a…’, or ‘There was a…’. These forms give you plenty of scope to insert names of people, animal, plants and objects… yes really! For example, ‘There was a young man called Bill…’, or ‘There once was a venus fly trap/pretty young cat/anglepoise lamp…’ ok, possibly not the last one.
- Make a rhyming dictionary your new best friend – rhymezone.com have a great one for free. You don’t want to be left bereft of a rhyme when you get to the end of your new limerick opus, so go through the rhyming options and see which word most tickles yer fancy.
- Start your limerick with ‘There was a young man from Nantucket…’. You’ll be stuck for a rhyme that isn’t offensive or obscene and it will all end in tears, believe us. See also ‘There was an old man named Lunt…’
- Although… there was a young man from Nantucket, who fell in love with a pretty pink bucket, they flew to the moon, and returned far too soon, as they ran out of fuel in their rocket… (Ed: good save with the ending there!).
- Attempt to get Lear-esque with your imagery. Come up with your own style, try out as many variations as you can…and see which option raises the most smiles/giggles/looks of horror. Limericks, after all, are all about being silly, so knock yourself out.
If you’re feeling inspired, why not write your own limerick and send it to us… go on, you’re a poet and you don’t know it 😉
You know that noise you get in cartoons when someone tells a really terrible joke and the obligatory tumbleweed rolls lazily past as the wind whistles all around? That’s what it sounds like when you log into Google+.
Google has brought us many brilliant and useful things – who, after all, searches for ANYTHING online and doesn’t use the Google search engine? Probably just people who work at Microsoft and are made to use Bing on pain of having red-hot pokers shoved in unpleasant places if they so much as look like they’re going to do a Google search. (Ed: *runs a Google search* “Do Amazon ship red-hot pokers that are compatible with Bill Gates?…”)
So we all love the Google search engine, right?
But Google+ is without doubt the worst social network of them all – there, we’ve said it and it’s out in the room! Phew, I bet you all feel better now, right? You thought it was only you, didn’t you? Even that little ‘+’ at the end is annoying, sitting there looking all smug and winking at you with its one little cross eye, twitching nervously at it contemplates whether to bollocks up your search optimisation.
- Post your blog links and content here. Let’s face it, there’s only one reason to be on Google+ and that’s because posting your content and links on Google+ will help the search engine optimisation (SEO) of your web pages, blogs and digital marketing.
- Post regularly. Because it’s all part of the one big Google family, if you do a quick status update on Google+, it’s more likely that your link will come higher up the search rankings – and that’s the pinnacle of your content dreams after all, right?
- Use hashtags (# these annoying little finnicky buggers) to flag up your content – unlike Facebook, where using a hashtag marks you out as a prize tool, in Google+ tagging your posts may actually help you find the right audience for your latest treatise on why Fraggle Rock should be recommissioned (Ed: Good idea. Get on it, ITV!)
- Try using Google+ as a social place to hang out, shoot the breeze and post the usual kind of chatty status updates. As a social networking site, it has all the ambience and attraction of a Wetherspoons boozer at 3pm on a Tuesday – in other words, it’s almost empty, and the people you DO meet will definitely not be your first choice of companion, drinking or otherwise.
- Loiter once you’ve posted that update. Write it, stick in your hashtags and publish it: then get the HELL out of there! Stay around any longer and you may well be digitised and pulled into the Google mainframe to spend a Tron-like existence trapped for eternity in the HTML code of Chrome. Apply the Primark shopping approach: go in, get what you need, get out and hope no-one has spotted you paying £1.50 for your undercrackers.
- Add anyone you actually know to the ‘Circles’ in Google+. This is Google’s way of grouping people together by friendship/work/customer type, and it’s all a bit too ‘sorting people and putting them in a box’ for our liking. Avoid at all costs, and talk to your real friends on Twitter or Facebook… or Snapchat if youse is like well young, innit.
They say everyone has a book inside them (and we don’t mean in the ’embarrassing visit to A&E’ sense). We all have a story to tell, a journey to share or an idea that sounds like it could be worked into a passable novel.
But if you’ve just come up with the best idea ever for a chick lit flicker – featuring the forbidden love between a chocolate company owner and his down-at-heel cleaning lady – how do you get this blockbusting idea out of your head and into 100,000 words of tear-enducing literary prose?
- Commit to writing, a LOT, and then some, and then some more, again… and wash, and repeat.
- Learn the basics of editing skills. You don’t need swish software but you DO need patience and – in our opinion – rewards for getting your edits done. Chocolate works well (Ed: there’s a theme emerging here… ). Editing is not a necessary evil, it is just part of the whole process; you HAVE to do it – so make it as comfortable as possible.
- Print your chapter or section out if you can when doing your editing. Plonk yourself down in a nice comfy chair, drink of choice in hand, sit back and relax. With whatever pen/pencil/quill you prefer, slowly go through the text, correcting the typos, grammar and things that make no sense. Does it scan, can you read it out loud, have you used ‘but’ far too many times?… But… when you get to the end of the section reward yourself with whatever you need in order to feel good about the editing process: biscuit(s), favourite TV programmes, Swedish massage from Lars…
- Plan out the structure of the story, however roughly. With a few key ideas for story milestones you’ll give yourself a skeleton for the whole novel – you can add the flesh to these rough bones at a later point, giving birth to your very own literary zombie.
- Make your characters feel like real people. Don’t just describe the colour of their dress/jacket. Give your reader a bold-brush-stroke idea of what this person is like and make them feel some engagement, empathy or emotion towards them. Human stories need rounded human characters – and when we say rounded we don’t mean Mr Blobby.
- Start on the action – back story can come later. Engage with your reader and give us snippets of the back story and the ‘whys’ later on. In short, get our attention early or we’ll be tempted to turn on the telly and watch Googlebox/shout at Question Time.
- Have a reason for everything that happens. Don’t introduce ‘colour’ to something if it doesn’t serve a purpose. It’s great that Auntie Flo’s beautiful russet red Manolo’s walked through the door, but if they don’t stamp on something, get thrown off at a disco, or describe that she’s kooky, it serves no purpose (take note, Dan Brown).
- Write! Yes we know, prosaic, but you have to put in the time. And, yes, some of it will be bilge, but some of it will be brilliant too – write, write and write some more and soon the diamonds will start sparkling among the more work-a-day coal.
- Get used to being ‘stuck’. It doesn’t matter – keep writing! Write anything. Write poetry, diaries, short stories, or a letter to your mum, but write something. Use writing prompts if need be, but if you’ve committed your time to write, then write, anything.
- Miss huge bits of plot because you think your reader will know what’s going on. Nice as it would be, your reader isn’t psychic, so you need to give enough plot hints to make it clear what’s happening. Conversely don’t tell us everything – show not tell. No-one wants a novel to read like an Ikea instruction manual.
- Be boring with your writing. Cardinal sins can include being too descriptive, going overboard with the adjectives (It was a dark and stormy night… ) or going into minute detail that adds nothing to the story, the character development or the excitement of the narrative – so choose wisely what to describe. Less is generally more.
- Show all your wares up front (Ed: unless you’re drafting something for the ’50 Shades of Grey’ market). Like that unforgettable night at Foxy’s Exotic Dancing Emporium, the tease, the strip, is most of the fun… so take time to let us get at your goodies.
- Attempt to hit your 3,000 words a day count whilst simultaneously having Twitter/Instagram/the news/CBeebies on a nearby screen. Get rid of all distractions. There is a time for inspiration (Ed: Late at night, after a few vinos, watching Michael Fassbender/Angelina Jolie), and there’s the occasions where you SAY you’re seeking inspiration but ACTUALLY you’re distracting yourself with YouTube videos of pandas on slides. Lock yourself away and (as we KEEP on saying) get writing, writing WRITING!!!
Easter. A time of daft rabbit ears, waistline-increasing levels of chocolate and the perennial favourite that is ‘The Easter Egg Hunt’… oh and something about a bloke with a beard popping back up from beyond the grave to tell us how lovely it would be if we were all nicer to each other (definitely no bad thing, but we’re so over the smock and sandals look).
So, if you’re more interested in the confectionery than the theology of the Easter season, you’d better get writing some invites to your Easter Egg Hunt. We all know you’ve got to hide a selection of ovoid goodies in fiendishly difficult hidey holes but how do you make your guests turn up in the first place?
- Put the date, time and place on the invite. Easter can fall at funny times during the year, so make it easy on folks and give ’em the blasted date.
- Include a map, directions and any special instructions, such as parking arrangements or how to avoid George, your over chatty neighbourhood watch coordinator.
- Include a postcode and directions for satnav-challenging villages. If you’re taking people ’round the back way’, do ensure there’s refreshments and shouts of ‘stop the clock, she’s found it’ when they arrive (Anneka Rice jumpsuits are optional).
- Use a pun or two in your invite text to add some colour. For example, ‘hop on over’, ‘hip hop hooray’, ‘it’s an eggstravaganza’ or ‘let’s get eggsploring’… (Ed: no more bloody egg-asperating puns)
- State if you need to bring your own basket (egg hauls can be cumbersome to transport) and if appropriate footwear is needed. Great Aunt Doris may need to re think her 4″ Manolos.
- Be aware that, for some, Easter is a highly religious experience and many may be fasting. Also, bear in mind that for others it’s a ready excuse to smear themselves with the melted remains of a bumper-size chocolate bunny – either way, be respectable and cater for all.
- Leave the word ‘Easter’ out of your invite – unless you want apocalyptic style abuse from your neighbours and Theresa May camping outside with a ‘down with this kind of thing’ placard. Forgetting to mention Easter in their ad copy got the lovely people at The National Trust and Cadbury (please send us free chocolate eggs!) into a spot of bother recently, so we’d advise titling your ovoid-hunting extravaganza an ‘Easter egg hunt’ – unless your idea of fun is being chased down the high street by a rabid mob of irate Christians and Daily Mail readers (cue Benny Hill-style chase).
- Promise creme eggs or mini eggs on your invite: some egg fancier always buys them up in bulk in February and you’ll be left bereft, embarrassed and scrabbling round the shops, with nothing but Marmite and Pot Noodle eggs to appease your assembled throng.
- Use this as the time to try out your Dan Brown-level of clue mastery. No-one wants to spend three hours working out that your clue ‘where sun and sand at happier times did meet’ refers to your ornamental glass paperweight from the Isle of Wight.
- Make your egg hunt adult-themed and smutty – well, not unless it’s an adult party and all the eggs are the vibrating kind (Ed: could add a buzz to the party).
- However tempting it may be, use a walking app to make your ‘trail’ look like a penis. Stick with an Easter Egg – it’s easier to draw and less likely to cause any neighbour envy (tip – you can make it as huge as you want 😉 ).
What did we do with our phones before we had Twitter? (Ed: probably talk to people through them?)
Twitter is a social media network (or ‘micro-blogging site’, if you will) where you post 140 character-long ‘tweets’ about whatever the hell pops into your head at any given moment. It could be your thoughts on a recent political event, your uniquely insightful comments on Kanye’s latest track, or it could be a drunken rant about why none of your friends ever want to go out on a Friday night anymore.
The point is that, on Twitter, literally anything goes. Write it, tweet it and your great work of literary genius is out there in the world, waiting for the Twitterati to comment on. Admittedly, these comments are usually along the lines of ‘You’re an idiot!’ or ‘I think you’ve missed out an apostrophe’, but at least it’s feedback, eh.
In many ways, Twitter is the ultimate social media platform. It’s become a global phenomenon in just a few years, and it’s hard now to imagine how bad journalism/celebrity updates/online arguments existed before we had the Twittersphere.
- Use hashtags wisely. The golden rule is no more than 3, use them to drive people to your Twitter feed, but check your spelling. #Ilikeyouraunt sends a very different message to followers than the regrettable time your fingers slipped and you typed a ‘c’ rather than an ‘a’.
- Engage with your followers. Learn about them, tweet links to them and be inclusive. Check your spelling and check their username, but once you’ve done that, you’re golden.
- Think before you tweet. Will this tweet help me/someone else to have a laugh or is it just a non-amusing rant at the world and everyone in it. We all need those times to vent, but sometimes a public forum where your rant can never permanently be deleted (eek!), might not be the best option.
- Learn that 3am is never the best time to tweet. Period. Nope don’t even start an argument here.
- Try and have a personal, profile picture. It makes you seem like a real human being and not a soulless robotron (Ed: no we’re not sure what that is either). Your selfie game might not always be on point, but a nice friendly face lets people know who they’re following.
- Write a bio. You’re limited in what you can say, but a name always helps, as does an idea of who you are and why you’re on Twitter. If you need more space to explain about yourself, set up a blog or website and include the links in your bio.
- EVER drunk tweet! It’s the number one rule of tweeting, to be adhered to at all costs. Adele got her account removed from her for some questionable tweetage when drunk. We don’t need any blurry shots of you miming something questionable with a saveloy at midnight in the local chip shop. You will regret this. Your mum will regret it and the saveloy will most definitely regret it. Stay smart, stay safe, stay saveloy free and most importantly stay sober when tweeting.
- Use twitter just to complain loudly. No one likes a moaning Minnie and everyone can spot a ‘freebie’ chancer a mile off. Do engage with companies, do tell them what you think but despite your frustrated anger simmering in a cauldron of contempt, try to remain professional. There are people at the end of Twitter accounts, despite the image of soulless bureaucracy of ….(insert worst imaginable company here… normally something to do with trains).
- Spam tweet/over tweet/keep selling something. It’s dull, it’s boring and WE DON’T CARE. Oh yeah, check your spelling and your grammar and your hashtag game.
- Ever and we mean ever, use ‘clickbait’ phrases like ‘Oh my god, and what she did next you’ll never believe… ‘ or ‘You’ve been using [random object] wrong this WHOLE time…’. It’s Twitter suicide and will drive your followers away quicker than a conversation about Brexit.