A year in tweets

The best spoof accounts on Twitter share their thoughts on the events of 2010.

Some of the tweets quoted below contain strong language.

January

7 January @DrSamuelJohnson Flop-hair'd Foulmouth Mister Jonathan ROSS has fled the BBC, afear'd of a publick Hanging from the Tory MOB.

20 January @reelmolesworth amey WINEHOUSE giulty of asault at pantomime O NO SHE ISENT cri defence counsel – pehaps not the best legal strateggy hem hem

February

7 February @MTuckerNo10 For fuck's sake. Dinner with Miliband tonight. Can't remember which one. Does it matter?

March

27 March @thefuckingpope Chocolate eucharist has arrived! It's delicious!

April

28 April @TheDearLeader So Hugo Chavez is on Twitter. Big deal. Tell him to call me when he commands a million-man army. (Seriously, Hugo: Call me. I've got plans.)

May

8 May Queen_UK #ge2010 awful dream. Woke up convinced that one was heading for a con-lib government and visions of Cam-Clegg audiences. What? Real? Fuck!

15 May @theashcloud My head is saying earn their trust back . . . but my heart is saying disrupt the flights . . . what's a cloud to do?

June

1 June @BPGlobalPR The oil leak was caused by a natural gas explosion, or sea fart, which is now having silent but deadly consequences. #bpseafart

11 June @FacebookPR Facebook Fun Fact: Every 9 seconds, we end a marriage. #didyouknow

18 June @DrSamuelJohnson The colonial Congress endeavours to block the Oil-Well by heaving Brick-Bats at hapless Fuel-Drudge Mister Tony HAYWARD

July

11 July @the_vuvuzela Goal kick. BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. Slide tackle. BZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZ. Routine pass. BZZZZZ BZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

15 July @BPGlobalPR Well, that wasn't so hard.

August

5 August @FEMINISTHULK HULK NEED EVEN BIGGER CAPS TO EXPRESS HULK JOY AT PROP 8 DECISION!

September

14 September @DrSamuelJohnson Bedlamite Harlequin Lady GAGA goes about clad in raw Meat, doubtless to delight her derang'd carnivorous Molly Disciples.

28 September @Queen_UK Text from David Miliband: "Your Majesty, should I stay or should I go now? If I go there will be trouble. If I stay it will be double"

October

1 October @FacebookPR Don't believe everything you see in "The Social Network", it's only like 99% true

6 October @chilean_miner I don't care if it is one of my five a day. I'm not having another one of Ernesto's moss smoothies

November

29 November @lord_voldemort7 Wikileaks has made me glad that my preferred method of secret communication is a mark burnt into my co-communicator's flesh.

30 November @Julian_Ass On the bus, old man in front of me was playing "got yer nose" with his grandson. "IT'S HIS THUMB!" I screamed. The truth must be told.

December

11 December @CherylKerl Dorty woak backstage. Matt's telt One Direction Santa's nut real. Thor distraught man. Snot an teeaz evereewhor pet

14 December @BigSocietyNews Source bone marrow yourself for your upcoming transplant and get £1.00 off the price of a hospital phone card.

20 December @FakeAPStylebook "Now I Have a Machine Gun: Ho Ho Ho" is not an acceptable headline for the drunken mall Santa rampage story

Steve Garry
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The footie is back. Three weeks in and what have we learned so far?

Barcleys, boots and big names... the Prem is back.

Another season, another reason for making whoopee cushions and giving them to Spurs fans to cheer them up during the long winter afternoons ahead. What have we learned so far?

Big names are vital. Just ask the manager of the Man United shop. The arrival of Schneiderlin and Schweinsteiger has done wonders for the sale of repro tops and they’ve run out of letters. Benedict Cumberbatch, please join Carlisle United. They’re desperate for some extra income.

Beards are still in. The whole Prem is bristling with them, the skinniest, weediest player convinced he’s Andrea Pirlo. Even my young friend and neighbour Ed Miliband has grown a beard, according to his holiday snaps. Sign him.

Boots Not always had my best specs on, but here and abroad I detect a new form of bootee creeping in – slightly higher on the ankle, not heavy-plated as in the old days but very light, probably made from the bums of newborn babies.

Barclays Still driving me mad. Now it’s screaming from the perimeter boards that it’s “Championing the true Spirit of the Game”. What the hell does that mean? Thank God this is its last season as proud sponsor of the Prem.

Pitches Some groundsmen have clearly been on the weeds. How else can you explain the Stoke pitch suddenly having concentric circles, while Southampton and Portsmouth have acquired tartan stripes? Go easy on the mowers, chaps. Footballers find it hard enough to pass in straight lines.

Strips Have you seen the Everton third kit top? Like a cheap market-stall T-shirt, but the colour, my dears, the colour is gorgeous – it’s Thames green. Yes, the very same we painted our front door back in the Seventies. The whole street copied, then le toot middle classes everywhere.

Scott Spedding Which international team do you think he plays for? I switched on the telly to find it was rugby, heard his name and thought, goodo, must be Scotland, come on, Scotland. Turned out to be the England-France game. Hmm, must be a member of that famous Cumbrian family, the Speddings from Mirehouse, where Tennyson imagined King Arthur’s Excalibur coming out the lake. Blow me, Scott Spedding turns out to be a Frenchman. Though he only acquired French citizenship last year, having been born and bred in South Africa. What’s in a name, eh?

Footballers are just so last season. Wayne Rooney and Harry Kane can’t score. The really good ones won’t come here – all we get is the crocks, the elderly, the bench-warmers, yet still we look to them to be our saviour. Oh my God, let’s hope we sign Falcao, he’s a genius, will make all the difference, so prayed all the Man United fans. Hold on: Chelsea fans. I’ve forgotten now where he went. They seek him here, they seek him there, is he alive or on the stairs, who feckin’ cares?

John Stones of Everton – brilliant season so far, now he is a genius, the solution to all of Chelsea’s problems, the heir to John Terry, captain of England for decades. Once he gets out of short trousers and learns to tie his own laces . . .

Managers are the real interest. So refreshing to have three young British managers in the Prem – Alex Neil at Norwich (34), Eddie Howe at Bournemouth (37) and that old hand at Swansea, Garry Monk, (36). Young Master Howe looks like a ball boy. Or a tea boy.

Mourinho is, of course, the main attraction. He has given us the best start to any of his seasons on this planet. Can you ever take your eyes off him? That handsome hooded look, that sarcastic sneer, the imperious hand in the air – and in his hair – all those languages, he’s so clearly brilliant, and yet, like many clever people, often lacking in common sense. How could he come down so heavily on Eva Carneiro, his Chelsea doctor? Just because you’re losing? Yes, José has been the best fun so far – plus Chelsea’s poor start. God, please don’t let him fall out with Abramovich. José, we need you.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 27 August 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Isis and the new barbarism