Diary Extract: A Week In The Life Of An Internet Commenter

Ever wondered what goes through the mind of an internet troll, other than how shit your opinion on everything is? Check out this diary...
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Ever wondered what goes through the mind of an internet troll, other than how shit your opinion on everything is? Check out this diary...

404

Monday

A typical day for Lord Snark (That’s me) today. First, I read many articles online. Second, I counted by hand, the number of words in these articles. Finally, wrote insightful comments in response to these articles whilst ensuring each comment had at least one more word than the original article. Exhausting.

There was a particularly tricky 2,301 word comment underneath a 2,300 word column where I outlined a riposte to an, in my opinion, incorrect use of the phrase "tragic end". Nearly two and a half thousand words! Who knew an obituary for a child could be so long?

Tuesday

Got mad at the Internet again, a good day. Must have written “Boring. UNFOLLOW” to at least 200 tweeters, many of them Sex Bots. Now only following @big_ben_clock. Cathartic.

Wednesday

Had a nasty tiff with another commenter today. A real shame. A guy I hold in much high esteem. Him and I tend to rule over the comments section of a variety of newspaper comment pages.

His name is Lord Snide and, of course, my name is Lord Snark. I've always considered us bandits of the Internet age but today was a deep disappointment as we disagreed over the order of the “Ten Best British Tunnels” on a tunnel enthusiast’s personal blog.

I was adamant that the Queensway Tunnel was wrongly placed 7th and should have been one or even maybe two places higher. Lord Snide vehemently disagreed, claiming that the Birkenhead Tunnel, as he incorrectly described it, was in exactly the right place.

Alas Dear Diary this soon turned, and I take no pleasure in saying this, into petty name-calling and me going through every comment he had ever written on The Independent blog whilst clicking "Flag For Spam"

I really had no other option. Goodnight Lord Snide. Goodbye dear friend. I will never forget the time you took Owen Jones to task for his “infantile”, as you put it, use of the word “scary”. A fight worth fighting. Great memories.

Wrote a great comment on the Telegraph Blog page. Didn’t come up straight away. Must be being moderated.

Woke up early. Went through 50 opinion pages online. Found 47 opinions I didn’t quite agree with. A long day ahead.

Thursday

Very odd day. Internet wasn’t working. No access to the World Wide Web. In haste I bought some newspapers. Soon found sentences I didn’t completely like and wrote some explosive swears word underneath on a carefully drawn “Comments Section” on the paper itself. Gave (Drew on) my best comment with 6 Facebook likes, two retweets and a Google plus one. To be honest, I felt it deserved more. I am my very own worst critic.

Still waiting for that comment to be moderated on the Telegraph. Time will tell.

Thursday

Was given the email address of a Blog editor today. Apparently I can send off my own articles and have them published online. Burnt the offending piece of paper as soon as I got home. Then went online and wrote the phrase "This is the worst article ever written" under 5 different pieces.

Typed out each one, individually of course. Copy and pasting isn't real “gonzo journalism.”

Comment still not moderated on the Telegraph.

Friday

Woke up early. Went through 50 opinion pages online. Found 47 opinions I didn’t quite agree with. A long day ahead.

Finally finished correcting these “journalists” opinions just before midnight, only for a whole new wave of opinion to be published. No rest for the wicked.

Still no sign of my Telegraph comment, for shame.

Saturday

Day off. Lovely time spent on my novel. At around 10pm I finally finished my 10,000-page opus: “The Serene Sodomy of Queen Boudicca”

After a decade writing this absolute historical beast I have now sent it off to publishers. Fingers crossed.

Speaking of fingers crossed. Fingers crossed for that Telegraph comment. STILL NO SIGN. Very anxious.

Sunday

Day ruined. Went to bed early.

Telegraph comment was rejected. Presumably the editors of this blog aren't interested in the varying skull sizes of different ethnicities. Great Britain is dead.

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