X,oh X, (formerly known as Twitter), oh what comes next? Behold, for here is my case for what is now the dying art of Twitter (otherwise known as, *spitting on the floor*, “X”) and why it is a crying shame that it’s going down the swanny. Do you remember when you joined Twitter? I downloaded it, pre-Covid, at the ripe age of 16; I had no power, no tangible standing in the world (still don’t), but my golly-gosh did that stop me from expressing my gripes and misgivings on the internet? In the irrelevant past, Cambridge try-hards’ tweets have been termed “esoteric nonsense” – “the pits of hell” – even, but I beg to differ #retweet.

Twitter (I refuse to call it “X”) should be seen as an accessible soundboard for the youth of today. Christ! We have no other outlet. You could write for Varsity until your face turns blue, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s all the same. It doesn’t matter who reads your Features articles or your late-night Tweets. If it makes you feel better to express your worthless opinion in a world which probably doesn’t need it, then go for it. The only difference being that Varsity hacks are inflated by their die-hard ambition to be the next Jeremy Paxman, whereas Tweeters are just trying to get some peace of mind.

“Who else am I supposed to share my hatred of gown-clad voi-enthusiasts with aside from a small circle of uninterested Twitter chums?”

The likelihood is, in the vast cesspit of Twitter, nobody will read it anyway. Not one person is suggesting that those among us who tweet believe we’re making waves. 500 million tweets are posted a day, you make that 500 million and one, and you’ve pissed in the ocean: as long as it’s not hurting anyone, piss away. At the very least, it means I can respond to Jeremy Clarkson as though he’d give me a chance to otherwise #talktalktalk.

To say that using big words in a tweet, of which I know leegions, a plefora, lots and lots of, is a sign of Cambridge hubris is ridiculous. At a time when a two subscription tier feature and a crypto-king blood bond is becoming a prerequisite to accessing the platform, it is frankly moronic to criticise the tweeting habits of students. Who else am I supposed to share my hatred of gown-clad voi-enthusiasts with aside from a small circle of uninterested Twitter chums? At least it gets my voice out there. Of course, I could shout across the street. However, I tried that and it resulted in a rather inconvenient antisocial behaviour complaint. Therefore enter Twitter.

“My mental health is always greatly improved after tweeting a sentence with more than one three syllable stonker in it”

Prior to Emperor Elon, Twitter was a curious and, dare I say it, esoteric hotspot. Fertile ground for Cambridge oddballs and misfits looking for a quick laugh here and there. Work hard, play hard in the most banal sense – the Bullingdon Club could never. Yes, some long words were shared – we’re using vocab which makes us feel special. I don’t know about you but my mental health is always greatly improved after tweeting a sentence with more than one three syllable stonker in it. Retweets to the wind, I’ve got vocab (following a quick “synonyms for …” google search). OK, this may seem insufferable and yes, footie tweets are negligible, but does that mean we simply retreat to our desks and sit silently pondering our thoughts? Alone? Why not share and be emotive in a space that has no academic expectations.

Obviously the privileged Cambridge student body is perhaps not a voice that needs to be heard. However, that’s no reason for non-participation. Heck, if by some divine intervention the current algorithm cracks and a liberal Cambridge student with no membership can help to filter out bad Twitter, then the risk of sounding pretentious and incredibly clever is a cross that I’ll have to bear.

Being a virtual town crier is a relatively new phenomenon, but speaking as a half-arsed historian, it’s a fascinating aspect of our modern world. This is exactly the time and place to go into a spiel about free speech and expression, but I have neither the time nor the inclination to pick one side or the other on that matter (I stick to trivial stuff). But what I can safely say is that X is bad news. The god forsaken blue tick monopoly, the putrid musk of Elon’s anti-woke algorithms and, blow-me-down, the silly new name and logo, means that there is no escaping misinformation. So at this point in time, let the people tweet. They’re merely taking a fat dump in a private garden.