Why I've quit Twitter for good

Say hello to a world where you can just do stuff, without talking about the stuff you're doing!

This week, I gave up Twitter. For good.

I'd been thinking about it for a while, but there it was: as of Saturday afternoon I am just me, and not @stebax (formerly @antonvowl). I won't be coming back; I'm gone forever. At least, that's the plan.

Hey, Twitter, we had good times, you and me. We followed a few people; we had some hashtags; we broke superinjunctions and called ourselves Spartacus. But I think it's time we went our separate ways. If it's any consolation, it's not you; it's me.

For one thing, I'm planning on becoming a teacher soon. As such, it's not good to have every single thought you utter out there for the world to see, searchable forever more, by the odd the rogue vexatious parent or and mischievous pupil. I'd rather not comb through everything I've ever said, or run the risk of starting all over and saying one regrettable thing.

It's a different world, this one we're working in now. If you're in the public sector, there are people who are out to get you, to snivel if you do anything other than flog yourself with a cast iron sign saying "sweat of hardworking taxpayers" during a lunchbreak. If you're in education, there are people who might want to see you done down, and could look for any excuse, in or out of the workplace, to do it.

Your Twitter identity is something that represents you, or so you like to think; perhaps it's just an imago of what you'd like to be, if you were someone else, a kind of Second Life. I had a tiny square avatar to represent my entire personality - first it was Kenny Everett's Spider-Man, stood at a urinal; then, it was Monsieur Tourette from Modern Toss; then, it was the Vietnamese stuffed monkey toy who sits watching me as a write at my desk at home; then it was my own large potato-shaped face. I became me.

As I did so, I emerged into a world of writing, a career and lifestyle where you have to adopt a kind of overly keen whacky 1980s Radio 1 DJ type persona in order to convince yourself that your pitches are brilliant and you have the brio to overcome your doubts. Those of you who do know me in real life will understand how uncomfortable that would make me be.

It's easier to maintain that artifice if you're hiding behind a pseudonym and other people's ideas of who you are, rather than their knowledge of every cough and spit you make. But you can't go from reality to anonymity and back again; and if you're not comfortable inviting everyone into your life, you can't do it anymore.

So, that's that. And so far, I've not really missed it. There have been a couple of times when I've been watching something on TV and I've thought to myself: "Ooh, I really ought to tweet something about this; it might get five, or even six, retweets." And then I've stopped myself and thought: "You know, you don't have to say anything. You really don't need to say anything at all."

I'll miss the feeling of creativity and instant fun, which is what Twitter could be at its best. And I'll miss the people. Some of them were friends already; some of them became friends through our @-mentions and DMs. Twitter is where you get to choose your friends by seeing what they're like, rather than being lumbered with the same old faces down the pub. Look at me, talking in the present tense! I can't let go yet, can I?

But I'm going to have to.

Goodbye grabbing the mobile every time I think about sharing something moderately observational about something I'm watching on TV with people I have and will never meet. Hello to a world where you can just do stuff, without talking about the stuff you're doing, or talking about talking about the stuff you're doing (except for this, of course, but this doesn't count).

See you all on Google Plus! Hashtag only kidding semicolon close bracket.

Where's @stebax gone?
Patrolling the murkier waters of the mainstream media
Sam Pepper via YouTube
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The story of Sam Pepper: how a British YouTuber incurred the wrath of the internet

The Dapper Laughs of online pranks  has finally gone too far.

Last night, a Twitter user claiming to be "a voice" for hacker collective Anonymous sent out a series of angry tweets slamming a video featuring "violent abuse". The user wasn't referring to Isis, which is the subject of an ongoing campaign by the hacker group, but a young, turquoise-haired British man named Sam Pepper. 

Pepper is a YouTube star who came to fame after appearing in the 11th series of reality show Big Brother. He's known for his prank YouTube videos posted under the username "Sam", which have in the past involved such hilarious japes as wearing a prosthetic old man's face and climbing into bed with his own girlfriend. He now lives in LA, but is friends with other prominent British YouTubers, including, of course, Zoella. 

So on the face of it, it's a little surprising that @TheAnonMessage blasted out this tirade against the star last night as a series of tweets to his 170,000-odd followers:

We've been notified of a sick, disturbing video uploaded by @sampepper. Yet again, he uses violent abuse to garner subscribers.

This is something that we cannot stand for. This so-called prank should bring shame to the YouTube community for supporting this imbecile.

This video must be taken down. @SamPepper you have been warned. You have 24 hours or we will unleash fucking hell on you.

The video in question, "KILLING BEST FRIEND PRANK | Ft. Sam & Colby", was published on 29 November but already has over two million views. In it, Pepper teams up with another Sam, half of the YouTube duo Sam & Colby, to pretend to, er, kill him, and terrify Colby in the process.

Sam and Colby drive into shot, then both get out of the car to check the oil. A figure wearing a black balaclava grabs Colby, put a bag over his head, tapes up his hands and dumps him in the boot of the car, all with Sam's help. The pair take him to a rooftop, where the bag is removed, and Pepper - the masked attacker - shoots Colby in the head with a fake gun. The visual references to Isis are hard to ignore:  

Photo: Sam Pepper via YouTube

What follows is a genuinely disturbing thirty seconds in which Colby screams and cries, eventually drowned out and replaced in the video's edit by tinkly piano music. Finally, Sam stands up and reveals he isn't dead. 

YouTubers responded angrily to the prank. Commenters called it "cruel" and seemed genuinely distressed by Colby's experience. The video's approval ratings, represented by thumbs up and thumbs down, are a good indication of audience reaction: 

So what happens if Pepper doesn't remove the video within 24 hours? Gabriella Coleman, author of Hacker, Hoaxer, Whistleblower, Spy: The Many Faces of Anonymous told me that "[@TheAnonMessage] has earned the wrath of Anonymous for acting irresponsibly" in the past (most notably, the user launched an attack on the wrong Ferguson police officer), and isn't part of the main Anonymous group. However, this doesn't mean the user couldn't attack Sam's channel or website. Either way, @TheAnonMessage has leapt on the coattails of a controversy that seems to have caught the imagination of large swathes of social media.

From Pepper's own point of view, though, it's easy to see why the whole furore is a little mystifying. His entire empire is founded on pushing boundaries of acceptability, and no one involved in this particular prank is angry - the video includes an epilogue where he chats to Sam and Colby, and Sam grins and exclaims "that was crazy!".

There's a parallel with the comedian Daniel O'Reilly (also known by his persona Dapper Laughs) here: both are young male entertainers who built an online audience through pushing the envelope with humour and pranks, and are then a bit shocked when they cross an invisible line and are lambasted for behaviour not dissimilar to the actions that earned them followers in the first place. 

Pepper, like Dapper, has been accused of misogyny, and even sexual harassment in his videos - he removed one, "Fake Hand Pinch Prank", which involved grabbing women in public using a fake hand, following online outcry. Yet one of his most watched videos is "How to Make Out with Strangers”, in which he approaches random women in Miami, says things like “I’m seeing which beautiful girls would like to make out…with me,” and kisses them. The video received none of the same criticism, and earned him over 17 million views. You can see why he might not be getting the message. 

The difference between the two videos lies, of course, in consent, as Pepper at least pretends to ask the women's permission in the Miami video. Yet as YouTuber Laci Green gently points out in an open letter to Pepper written at the time: "You pressure women on camera to make out with you - again, many of whom are visibly uncool with it. Confused and caught off guard, they painfully follow through with your requests, clearly uncomfortable."

What's clear is that the internet is still trying to figure out what is acceptable in the realm of humour. Internet-friendly humour tends to be slapstick, brash, irrelevant, and involve making fun of gormless members of the public. But pushed to extremes - the extremes which can seem necessary to make a name for yourself in the saturated vlogger market - these gags can easily turn nasty. 

Barbara Speed is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman and a staff writer at CityMetric.