The Irish Blog Awards came up in conversation over a few pints.
“They’re all meeting up in a big hotel in Dublin, it said in the paper”, offered Liam the taxi man (who knows things). “A bit like the Oscars, or a debs. Twenty Benson won a load of yokes last year”.
“Ah, would ya fek off”, says Pat the Hurler (so called for his lack of golfing prowess). “Shur they can’t meet up. They’re not real people. They don’t really exist”.
“Couldn’t exist”, agrees Fifty (who lives in number 49, but it’s an end house with a big garden). “I never heard of anyone being called Twenty. That’s thick”.
“Well the fares I carried last year were real people”.
“Then they were just stand-ins or something. Like actors. It’s all just made up like the rest of the stuff on the internet”, explains Fifty.
“Jayzez, you could be right now that I think of it. Shur didn’t some Rafter fella with a beard collect the prize on behalf of Twenty Benson the last time. On-beee-haaalf-of. He must’ve been an actor. Your man Benson probably doesn’t exist”.
Then the conversation moved on to the more important topic of whether a screwdriver or a pliers would be better for unlodging the two euro coin that’s been jammed under the skirting for weeks now.
Now I know for a fact that I don’t exist. I know because I made myself up. I don’t know about other bloggers though. Maybe they made themselves up too, or paid someone to make them up. But I did have to agree with the lads in the end – a screwdriver would be best.
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By the time I’d been writing my blog for a few months, I was wishing I’d made myself up. Being real on the internet’s a feckin curse.
Well Kav, they do say that no man is an island (except Aran), and likewise no blogger can ever be totally anonymous.
Usually you don’t need to be a hacker or have a big shiny sheriff’s badge to get real names. I’ll let you know some of the tricks if you’re interested … but not here, of course.
I’m always interested in finding out how to spy on my fellow man - if you could drop me a mail that would be much appreciated.
Drop you a mail tomorrow, Kav. But there’s no magic/science involved. You’ll probably say, “yeah, I knew that”.