Lewes and the Alex Salmond bonfire controversy

This is excellent

Recent world ‘events’ have revealed my friend to hold views I abhor. What do I do?

Dear Bebe
I’m a regular on Twitter, and a lot of my friendships are either formed, developed or cemented by it.
In relation to recent dreadful world events, most of my timeline shares my abhorrence with those people who, to my eyes, are clearly the aggressors.
Except, that is, someone I actually thought was a close, personal friend. It seems, from things she’s RTed, that we hold utterly opposing views, which is difficult enough, but in this instance, makes me think she’s a total knob.
What do I say? What do I do?
Peace-loving Peter

Dear PLP

That does sound difficult.

I’m a regular on Twitter too. It’s often an excellent place. But there are also some inherent problems with leaning too heavily on it, from a social perspective. Even if you’re a careful winnower of who you choose to follower, it’s an open forum. Group dynamics apply. And when people get together in any forum, that gathering has the potential to become utterly monstrous. I’m a fan of Morris Nitsun, who wrote an extraordinary book called The Anti-Group in the 90s. It’s aimed at therapists, but, in essence, he explains that groups can and do turn nasty suddenly. Not because there is a “bad” person driving it, but because groups, collectively, do that. It’s why I won’t go to weddings.

Anyhoo, whatever my views on the current world situation you’re referring to – because I think Twitter has the potential for ramping up strife in a really unhealthy way – I tend not to discuss them there. This does not mean I don’t hold strong views – and, for the most part, people I choose to follow agree with me on the big stuff. It’s why I follow them. But it does mean, for certain topics, I don’t think being polemical about them on Twitter gets you very far. I don’t think anyone changed their view on an intransigent, deeply-held situation because of a pithy Tweet or record number of RTs. But Twitter isn’t “mine” and people can do what they like on it.

I often advocate not being polarised in an opinion, in trying to understand that there are two sides and complicated stuff going on. But sometimes that doesn’t work. Sometimes we are clear in our own minds that certain stances, events, behaviours are simply wrong. And, if that’s how you feel here, you can draw your line.

Your power lies with unfollowing on Twitter. And if this situation crosses into ‘real life’ and you are going to fall out with that person then so be it. You discovered something, act on it. However much you liked this person, if your views are so different to something that matters deeply to you, it might not be possible to ‘agree to differ’.

If they matter to you, you might want to meet them and talk it through. Of course, I’d hope for your sake, it helped. But I wouldn’t bank on it. If humans were better able to pause, think, reflect before firing rockets, I suspect we wouldn’t be in quite the global mess we’re in.

Bebe xx

 

Twin piques. How do you socialise with a couple if one half is a douche?

Dear Bebe

What do you do when you REALLY like one half of a couple but think their partner is a complete douche?

I’m in a relatively new relationship with a lovely fella, Pete. Salt of the earth. Adores me. All going swimmingly. But there’s a tricky issue afoot. He likes us to socialise A LOT with his bezzie mate, let’s call him John. Which is fine cos John is a sweetie. The problem lies with John’s ladylove, let’s call her Janet. Janet is a bloody ‘mare. She’s needy, clingy, stupid, holds offensive views and ruins every evening out we go on together. 

I don’t feel I can tell Pete what I think, because it would leave him in a sticky position.

What can I do?

Irked Irma

Dear II

I’ve never understood the cult of couples socialising with couples. Indeed, I’m curious as to how it’s come about that people in relationships seem to view themselves as somehow inherently superior to people who aren’t. Society reinforces this horseshit and it makes me very cross. I have no problem with people choosing to cohabit, marry, whatever. But there’s nothing special about it, no reason why that makes you a better or more successful human being. And it’s always struck me as utter madness to assume that, just because you are a couple, you’ll get on with other people just because they are also in a relationship.

As it happens, I’m not single, but I remember being treated like a second class citizen at large social gatherings when I was. I remember being pitied. Everyone assumed I was desperate to be paired up.

Hogwash. Being with someone can be lovely, it can also be a fecking nightmare. There’s nothing inherently good or bad about it either way. But I’ve never forgotten how it felt to be looked down on.

I have a low boredom threshold and I won’t spend my precious free time with people whose company I don’t like. I often see friends on my own, ie separately from my other half. Most friends aren’t ‘joint’ ones either, because we’re not joined at the hip. Loads of my mates are single. Rarely do we socialise with ‘just’ couples, and when we do, at a dinner party for example, often there’s one person we love to bits (the original ‘friend’ of one of us) and the partner either one or both of us may struggle to get on with.

In the early days of a relationship, you want to like everything about your beloved, but that’s never real or sustainable, in my view. How about a little slow and gentle ‘disengagement’ of this coupley socialising malarkey? Suggest to your darling beloved Pete you’d prefer to spend more evenings with just you two, plus have evenings where perhaps you go out with your own mates separately, and he does out with his?

You could just tell him Janet is pissing you off, but as you rightly say, that could make things difficult between him and John. Men’s social tolerance levels can be higher than women. He might also think she’s a pain, but perhaps it’s water off a bloke’s back and he doesn’t notice.

If you do need to see them together, make sure you’ve got other friends around too, so she’s diluted. It’s also possible she finds you intimidating and so is behaving like a twonk because she’s insecure. In which case, my advice is to be unfailingly pleasant.

But, essentially, my view is that life is too short to spend time with people that bore the pants off you, and those who think that couples should only spend time with couples need shooting, and not by cupid.

Bebe xx

I’m friendly with someone on Twitter. Should we meet?

Dear Bebe

I’m friendly with someone on Twitter, we’ve been tweeting each other a lot over the last couple of years. Let’s call her @MsSeemsNice.

She’s moving jobs in a few months, nearer to where I live, and I’m wondering if it would be a good idea to suggest meeting in the ‘real’ world.

@MissLovely

Dear Miss L

Hmm, well, there’s no right or wrong answer here. An ultra-cautious friend of mine has a policy of maintaining absolutely anonymity on the web. She thinks everyone is a potential psychopath, even, and perhaps, especially, those who seem “nice”.

As eternally youthful as I know I look, I am actually getting older, and I’ve noticed I’m getting into a bit of a rut with friendships, which actually suits me fine. I put it down to knowing myself better over time and not being arsed to put up with things I don’t enjoy. So I meet certain friends in a particular places, at vaguely regular intervals, and it suits us to do this. So I guess I’m a bit resistant to changing something that’s working nicely, on the basis that it might all go tits-up and life’s hard enough already.

Which isn’t to say our needs and circumstances don’t alter sometimes – or that change can be positive. Refreshing even.

And I know some people are actually genuinely sociable and enjoy face-to-face meeting. I find this odd, but I’ve witnessed it, so it must be true.

For example, I have been to a Tweet-up in my time. Some, jolly sorts clearly love putting a face to a Twitter handle, and socialising, and I can see the value they get from that. But it wasn’t my cup of tea, to be honest.

I’m friendly in real life with some people on Twitter, and there are lots of people I follow who seem, frankly, rather fabulous. I wouldn’t follow them unless I thought so, and I sometimes fondly imagine a pie and a pint would be enormous fun. But I suspect it’ll never happen, and for me, maybe that’s for the best.

So, go with your gut. If it seems a risk worth taking, give it a try, maybe go gently to start with – exchange a few emails where you find out a bit more about each other’s ‘real’ lives, see how that seems.

But, if you decide not to suggest a meeting, value your relationship as it is. Twitter’s a lifeline for me, and I don’t have to get off the sofa to enjoy it.

Bebe xx

 

 

What can I do about my body hair? I’m ashamed of going swimming

Hello Bebe

I’m thirteen and I live with my dad. He’s generally great, but he’s also a bit clueless, when it comes to some things anyway.

I’ve got very dark hair, and I’ve noticed I’ve been getting a lot more hairy in the last few months. Basically, I’m worried about getting teased at school in PE or when I go swimming with my friends. 

I shave my lower legs and underarms, which seems to work ok, but the hair on my arms is dark too and I don’t know what to do about that. I’m worried the ‘fur’ on my top lip is going to turn into a moustache. And when I’ve tried to shave my ‘bikini’ area, it gets all red and rashy afterwards (and itchy). I’ve asked dad for money to get a bikini wax (which was REALLY embarrassing) but he won’t give it to me. He says I shouldn’t worry about these things, and nobody would notice.

What can I do? I can’t pretend to have a period all summer and I can’t wear a burqa.

Worriedly

Ellie

Dear Ellie

Because of the society we live in, dealing with our body (and facial) hair is a total bastard. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but you’ve discovered it already. It’s especially tormenting for dark-haired girls. Red heads, natural blondes and those with a few wisps they shave a couple of times a week have no idea what life is like for all the really hirsute brunette women and girls. It must be tough for hairy men, who shave their faces every day too, what with the shaving rashes and the irritated stubble. It’s a thankless, never-ending, tedious task. Like deforesting the Forth Bridge.

I could rant on at great length about what a shitty, misogynistic world we live in where women are expected to look pre-pubescent their entire lives, but I don’t think you want a lecture right now. You want to know what to do so you don’t get teased.

Not sure if you’ve looked, but there are some websites that are quite helpful. Also worth talking to a friend, if there’s someone you trust?

Is there an aunt in the picture, or someone who could talk to your dad on your behalf if you’re finding it difficult, because it can be hard to deal with body hair on the cheap, this we all know, and it would help if you had some money towards it. If you don’t, you may be able to spin a yarn about needing money for sanitary products. He’s unlikely to ask too many questions about that. I don’t really encourage lying to parents, as a rule, but this stuff is more tormenting than your dad can possibly know – he’s never been savaged by teenage girls. They are simply the most scary people on earth if you’re also a teenage girl (and quite often, even if you’re not). And boys, if they’re watching porn (and let’s face it, they are), probably have no clue what ‘real’ women look like.

For your legs and underarms, make sure, when you shave, you use lots of hot, soapy water and a good, sharp razor. That can help with ingrowing hairs and stubble problems.

Think about getting some hair bleach – Jolen or Boots own – and use that on your top lip and arms. Hair becomes less noticeable when it’s paler (depending on your skin colour, too high a contrast on darker skin can look a bit odd).

If you can avoid it, don’t buy swimwear that’s really high cut, it just makes life harder. I agree a wax will be more helpful than a razor in the sensitive ‘bikini’ area – you could try Immac or a dipilatory cream by the way – it can be better.

But you really DON’T need to get rid of everything, just what would show. You can get home waxing systems or wax strips from the chemist. How well they work depends on how strong your hair is. Do follow the instructions carefully. If possible, you’re best off going to a salon a few times so you understand how to do this – it’s not easy doing it yourself – or get a friend to show you/do it with you.

If you’ve got loads and loads of fast-growing body hair, the five o’clock shadow sort, you might want to ask your doctor about it, maybe get your hormone levels checked. There can be underlying causes of ‘excessive’ hair, and it’s always helpful to know if so. But it doesn’t always mean they can help deal with the hair, I’m afraid.

You can have laser treatment and also buy lasers to use at home, but this is very, very expensive. It is an effective treatment, but you need a lot of them to slow regrowth, and they tend to only work on dark hair on lighter skins (it’s the contrast which makes most lasers work). Lasers slow down hair growth dramatically, and you can use them on your face and everywhere really. For women struggling to deal with, what in effect is a full-grown beard, who doctors can’t help, they can be a life-saver. I’m not saying that frivolously either. Having to deal with a lot of body and facial hair can make some women feel suicidal, and bearded women jokes are the stock in trade of far too many lousy “comedians”.

Anyway Ellie, I hope this has helped, a bit at least. Don’t ever feel you’re alone. When you’re in the bathroom, swearing at your body for being so annoying, lots of beautiful girls and women share this experience. And the good news (you can slap me for saying it), is that, if you’ve got luxuriant body hair, you’ve almost certainly got fantastically thick, lovely head-hair too.

Bebe xxx

If someone is an idiot on Twitter, are they an idiot in life?

Dear Bebe

There’s someone I’ve admired and looked up to for years. We have a sort-of working relationship, in as much as we do projects sometimes, and we socialise a bit, in relation to that. She’s amazing at what she does, really talented, yet always seemed so modest in ‘real’ life.

But the shock came when she recently joined Twitter. She was tentative at first, but now she seems to love it like a drug, and, god, what an arse she seems to be. Not at all the person I’d thought she was.

I’ve been on Twitter for years and I guess it’s true to say I have strong views about what’s ok and not – and there are some things I automatically unfollow people for – but in this case I don’t feel I can. She’d want to know why and be really upset. But it’s not so much that I can offer her advice on how to best use social media – it’s her whole personality I’ve come to loathe.

Her ‘crimes’ are that she always retweets praise for herself, also her ffs (and does ‘reply all’ thanks to the list she’s included in, with a ton of false modesty “so honoured to be included in such rarified company”). She puts a fullstop at the beginning of tweets, so, joy, we can all see the self-aggrandising conversations she’s having with her wealthy clients. She name drops, shows off, is preeningly arch all the time. 

She’s so not the modest person I thought I knew. Being on Twitter seems to have revealed her to be monsterously needy, vain nightmare. Am I being a Twitter snob? What can I do?

Yours 

#sadface

Dear #sadface

In Twitter veritas eh?

I’ve come to think Twitter is a very interesting place for ‘revealing’ people for who they really are. And because of it, I’ve made some enchanting discoveries. But the flipside is, what is also revealed can be the “truth” about people you might have admired.

There are those who stride Twitter in seven league boots with wit and confidence and millions of followers. It seems to be a media which suits them. I do sometimes wonder, even with those people, if having such a massively attentive, instantly responsive audience has changed them and how they behave in the ‘real’ world though.

Certainly it takes some adjusting, knowing what to say and how to behave. A certain amount of time to ‘adjust’ and learn is fair I think. The social ‘rules’ of Twitter are largely unspoken and newbies make crashing etiquette mistakes all the time. Having someone irksome in your timeline is like being poked in the head by a really annoying little brother. But if they never learn, the joy of Twitter is that you can just unfollow.

But that is tricky with someone you have a relationship with “outside”. She probably will be offended if you unfollow. I’m not sure, in this case, if I wouldn’t advise unfollowing anyway. If she challenged you on it (very poor form to do this, but the ghastly sort tend to), just say it must have been a glitch in your Twitter app (if she’s as barefaced as she seems to be, so can you be).

But there is one thing that might save your working relationship without you having to unfollow. A number of Twitter apps/clients (Tweetbot, Tweetdeck, Ubersocial) allow you to ‘mute’ followers. They never know you’ve done it, and you have the enormous relief of not seeing their drivel anymore.

It does sound like you’re a bit of a snob, but then so am I. And I’m sorry someone you admired turned out to have Twitter feet of clay. It is disappointing. I imagine it’s because she’s quite insecure and she’s suddenly discovered a world where she’s getting praise and attention that she may have longed for. You need to be pretty self-aware to not show yourself to be an arse on Twitter. If other people don’t mind that side of her – after all, there are a lot of vain, needy people out there – let it go as a lesson learned. She’s not killed anyone after all, just squashed your idealised view of her.

Bebe x

My friend has terrible taste in men. Can we remain best friends if I hate her stupid fiancé?

Dear Bebe

I’ve been friends with Melissa for years. We met at university, we’ve travelled all over the world and done all sorts of things together since. She’s so sweet, gentle, creative and smart. We get on brilliantly. Except, that is, when she’s in a relationship. She has lousy taste in men. Every one she’s chosen has been an arrogant, self-absorbed, narcissistic twat. I can’t stand spending five minutes in their company. The current one, a fancy schmanzy lawyer, doesn’t have books visible in his swanky apartment because “they look untidy”. He holds loud work telephone conversations in the middle of a room full of dinner guests.

And Melissa is planning to marry this man. She wants me to come to the wedding. I really don’t think I can bear to. But if I don’t, will she forgive me? Can I tell her he’s an idiot?

Sad Serena

Dear Serena

Well, you can tell her, but my guess is that she won’t leave him and she’ll resent you for saying it. And as for not going to the wedding, I loathe weddings, but as I’ve said before, other people feel very differently to me and she probably wouldn’t forgive you, no.

That’s not to say I don’t sympathise with how you’re feeling. Most of us have a friend who has appalling taste in men/women. It’s a painful thing to witness, someone you care about with someone who doesn’t seem good enough, or is a downright asshat.

I’m wondering if there’s a little bit of green-eyed monster at play here. You’ve clearly very much enjoyed Melissa’s exclusive company over the years. I’m guessing your nose is always put a wee bit out of joint when she has a partner because she has less time for you. Which, again, I’m sympathetic about. I can’t stand flaky people who dump their friends the moment they have a regular bit of trouser (or skirt). But it’s common enough behaviour.

Do you have a partner at the moment? Might you be jealous? The two things could be simultaneously true you know, that you’re envious AND he’s an idiot.

Painful as it may be to admit, please don’t forget she’s chosen to be with him. You have to question her taste and judgement a bit here, surely? Maybe she’s got an arrogant, self-absorbed father and it’s all she thinks she’s worth (or she thinks Larry the Lawyer what a Real Man is like).

The day may come when she wakes up and realises she’s in bed with a pillock. But equally, it may not. If you are sure that your friendship is worth saving, go to the wedding, say as little as you can. Try to reduce social contact with them as a couple to the minimum after that, subtly, and aim to see her on her own. If he’s the kind of lawyer I think he is, there will be many evenings when he’s working late and she’d love to see a mate bearing a bottle of wine and some Tyrells.

I think there’s a chance that he’ll end up being unfaithful too, in the long run. You can’t trust anyone who won’t have books on display. He’s a nincompoop.

Bebe xx

I really, really hate Mother’s Day…

Dear Bebe

The world seems awash with pastels, spring flowers and sentimental rhyming couplets at the moment. It all makes me want to vomit. I don’t have “the best mummy in all the world”, she’s a self-absorbed, nasty old trout, who takes pleasure in tormenting others. Especially her children. Lord alone knows why she had kids. She’s always regarded us as a nuisance, a disappointment, an irritating presence. According to her, we ruined her figure, wrecked her social life, distracted our dad from the important business of dancing attendance on the Queen of the Universe, her. 

If you breathe a word of this, everyone says “Oh, come on. She can’t be that bad. She IS your mother after all”. And then I want to kill them. 

What can I do?

Dejected Daisy

Dear Daisy

This is neither the first nor the last letter I’ll get in my bag about difficult mothers I’m sure. It’s the weight of expectation that’s making this time of year so hard, that and the fact that every shop and restaurant tries to cash in on people’s guilt.

When the status of motherhood is shoehorned onto a stonking great pedestal, it leads to trouble. Being on a pedestal isn’t sustainable (and I’d frankly much rather be on a bar stool anyway). You’re not allowed to be a real person. Some mothers are terrific, some are abusive arses. Many are somewhere in between, like the rest of us, muddling along as best they can with what they know. A few, sadly, either don’t know very much, or simply, as with yours, don’t seem to care a great deal. This makes life for those around them very tough indeed.

I too am sick of having the mythical perfect maternal Virgin Mary type Mum rammed down my throat. If I see the words : “Really SPOIL her” one more time, I’m going to have to get my “really spoily” penknife attachment and see what damage I can do.

This is the kind of crap you read all the time – from ASDA’s website:

“Mums are great. They work hard and love you lots. So let her know she’s one in a million with one of our gift ideas. And if you’re a mum reading this, maybe just leave this page open so the kids get the hint…”

Your situation is particularly tough, but I’d say, any adult human with half a brain wants to puke at the sight of the stacks of “Best Mummy in the World” teddy bears for sale in every supermarket in the land.

No sane adult wants a fecking teddy, people, HELLO?

If anyone reading this wants advice, I have this to say. Gin, whisky, champagne, expensive chocolate, quality flowers, all fine. Cheap, sentimental tat? Nah-uh.

But in your case, Daisy, the one who needs these gifts is you, not your bloody mum.

Go spoil yourself.

Bebe xx

 

 

Why am I so sad the last remaining Fat Lady has died?

Dear Bebe

I’ve found myself getting more upset than I’d expect to over the recent death of Clarissa Dickson Wright. She wasn’t that old, but she wasn’t that young either. I didn’t know her, I wasn’t a fan of her cooking. I hate fox hunting, and she was a huge supporter.

The sadness started after I listened to the Desert Island Discs interview she did with Sue Lawley in 1999 (which I particularly enjoyed, because she kicked ass, effectively squashing Sue’s snidey sneering, about her weight etc). 

Why is her death having this effect do you think?

Sensitive Saul

Dear Saul

I’m with you on the Snide Sue Lawley squashing. You can never get too much of that.

I remember that interview, and I felt upset afterwards too, as well as when she died. On the one hand I fell in love with her all over again with all the obit stuff, remembering her suggesting the best method of greasing a cake-tin is to think of That Scene in Last Tango in Paris. Plus there is that excellent tale of her shagging an MP behind the Speaker’s Chair.

On the other, gaining an understanding that she’d been this incredibly bright woman, whose young life had been blighted by having a violent, alcoholic father, was horrific. People stupidly assume abuse is less likely to take place in wealthy families. He was protected by his elevated social status, being the famous doctor to the Royals, and so nobody was interested in seeing what kind of monster he was behind closed doors.

And other adults in her life were useless too – such as Clarissa’s boarding school headmistress writing to tell the father that his daughter had been “lying” about him, an act of breathtaking, sickening, sycophantic imbecility, leading to even more violence.

Then, after her father and mother died, all those years frittering away her £28 million inheritance and drinking herself nearly to death. Six pints of tonic a day, drunk with two bottles of gin. I didn’t agree with her stance on fox hunting either, but if you’ve seen human beings behave like animals, I suppose you may become hardened to suffering.

I can’t speak for your sadness, but, for me, what upset me was seeing her for who she really was, understanding she wasn’t just the caricature jolly hockeysticks, cream-guzzling Nancy Mitford type she seemed, dashing about with Jennifer Paterson on a motorcycle, slagging off vegetarians. She was once a child badly let down by those who should have been protecting her, enabling her and her siblings to have a childhood. So many people failed those children. Even her poor, frightened mother.

I was furious that nobody was ever brought to ‘justice’ for what they’d done. It’s not like on the telly where (mostly – not Line of Duty obv) baddies get caught.

I know in my case, a strong reaction to a death that isn’t directly related to me, may well be because it’s triggering something.

Might it be possible your sadness is partly about yourself? Were there adults in your life when you were younger who didn’t protect or support you, or someone close to you?

If this rings a bell, you might want to find yourself a therapist, or trustworthy friend, to talk it through.

But do remember, she may have had a dreadful childhood, but the latter decades of her life seemed full of fun and enjoyment. She stopped drinking and had a hugely successful career. Lots of people loved her. She didn’t copy her father and abuse others.

Bebe xx

I’m a complementary therapist, and I feel I’m being hectored on Twitter

Dear Bebe

I’m a “complementary” therapist. I’ve trained in various things, but these days I tend to work mostly as a reflexologist and aromatherapist. My clients are a complete mixture – some are wealthy, a few are older folk that I visit at home. 

The thing is, I never make claims about what I do, other than the fact that people find it relaxing and say they sleep better afterwards. I often think what my clients like most is the sympathetic company and some comforting human touch.

But, sometimes on Twitter, people troll me about alternative therapies being a con, saying I’m scamming vulnerable people.

I don’t think I am but I find this very upsetting. What do you think?

Angela the Sweet Smelling Foot Fairy

Dear ASSFF

For god’s sake woman, you don’t actually call yourself that do you? Because if you do, it’s no wonder you get trolled.

Now this is an interesting subject to me. I’ve had a bad back for years, and GPs have never been able to offer much help with it. I’ve tried a lot of alternative therapies. I’ve spent a fortune, rejected a fair few as being pretty rubbish, but benefitted from others. Yoga, pilates, shiatsu, good massage and osteopathy I rate highly. But it tends to boil down to them being a really good therapist that I get on with. It’s both what they do that helps and me having a relationship with them. But I always remember I’m a paying client – I’m not easily taken in by charlatans. Recommendations from friends I trust count for a lot.

It’s problematic, because there IS a lot of need out there that is never going to be fully met by the NHS. Doctors don’t always have the time for some conditions, problems that aren’t easily fixable, or indeed, medical. A doctor can’t really help if someone is lonely for example.

So people will seek “alternatives”. But when they do so, they’re often frightened, vulnerable and needy, and many “alternative” therapies are hopelessly unregulated. When I see Gemma on TOWIE waving her purple “dowsing” crystal to help make important life decisions, I want to reach into the telly and beat them all round the head with it.

For every decent osteopath there’s a dodgy zodiac colour vibration crystal therapist. The public are not really protected, nor do they always know how to separate the wheat from the chaff. There’s a world of difference between a well-trained sports masseuse and a “psychic” preying on vulnerable/idiots. Undoubtedly there are quacks, frauds and shysters, as well as some really good, ethical therapists who help people and don’t make untrue claims.  

But having said ALL of that, I do know of a few folk who look out for alternative therapists on Twitter and verbally beat them round the head until they run to the hills. Indeed I’ve seen some take pride in doing this. A few of those are part of the Skeptics movement. Now, I’m with the Skeptics on pretty much most of what they believe in. I’m also an atheist. But I’m not impressed when Richard Dawkins goes on a ranting rampage and bludgeons anyone in his path who holds religious beliefs. It does his cause no good whatsoever. There’s no point being a polemical arse who alienates people.

So I don’t like it when some Skeptics (many, indeed most, are fine people) see their role as the Skeptical Sheriffs of Twitter, trampling about and verbally gunning down individual homeopaths and acupuncturists in 14o characters or fewer. A select number gang up and go on the rampage sometimes, clearly thinking it’s big and clever. It isn’t. It’s bullying, it prevents open discussion. It’s almost always male and, in the words of Shania Twain, it don’t impress me much.

But look Angela. So long as you’re not suggesting to your clients that what you do has proven medical/therapeutic benefits, the trolls can bugger off. I’m assuming you don’t have a Twitter bio or website that makes those sorts of claims? Maybe don’t mention your profession in your Twitter bio. Tweets from people trying to promote their work are always dull anyway. You’d be better off sticking to what the rest of us do on Twitter. Wibble on about The Archers, rant about Question Time and link to some cute cats.

Bebe x