Think Before You May Tweet

[Update at end of post]

As Zelo Street readers will know, there are a number of those out on the right whose commitment to freedom of expression is so unyielding that they have blocked the blog’s Twitter feed. The roll of shame includes the perpetually thirsty Paul Staines, who styles himself Guido Fawkes, James “saviour of Western civilisation” Delingpole, and Young Britons’ Foundation head man Donal Blaney.

I don't read Zelo Street, cos I'm on telly!

Also on the roll call are Tory MP for Mid Bedfordshire (yes, it’s her again) Nadine Dorries, disgraced Tory spinner Andre Walker (a recent casualty of Twittergate), former Tory PPC Mark Clarke (also a Twittergate feature), the flannelled fool Henry Cole, and Cole’s appallingly sniffy flat-mate Christian May, who gofers at MIPPR, home of Nick Wood, former Tory spinner who talks loudly in restaurants.

Despite this united blocking front, there remains a strange fascination, especially for Cole and May, with Zelo Street. This was typified by Cole’s Twitter snark on Wednesday, where he called me a “loon” and “weak”.

By yesterday, though, the strain of Not Taking Any Notice At All Honestly was too much for the flannelled fool, as he petulantly ranted that one of my posts was “shot to shit” and that I was a “F***ing moron”.

Poor Henry was clearly in need of a lie down. But help was at hand, as his flat-mate joined the fray. “For whom does Zelo Street write apart from the small band of right-wing bloggers who like to laugh at him?” sniffed the Perfumed Ponce.

And, clearly now believing himself to be on a roll, May followed up his grammatically superior exposition to opine that I “should change the name of [the] blog to ‘no comments’”. But reality was about to intervene.

Former Daily Star freelance (and moderately long-suffering Arsenal fan) Rich Peppiatt took a moment away from preparation of his upcoming one-man show to inform May that I was “actually one of my favourite bloggers. Never heard of you, though”.

And thus the Perfumed Ponce was silenced.

[UPDATE 1400 hours: as Master Cole does not, repeat not, look in on Zelo Street, it was no doubt by sheer coincidence that he began to sound off on Twitter almost as soon as this post had been published. He proceeded to upbraid Helen Lewis and Owen Jones on the subject of the term "ponce", which had suddenly become a matter of the greatest importance.

Jones clearly did not see this as such a serious matter, so Cole widened his attack to include Ellie Mae O'Hagan, whose understanding of the term did not match mine, nor the generally understood one, but, hey, that's personal experience and opinion for you.

So Cole's problem is that he believes I have accused his flat-mate of being gay, which I have not. My use of the term "ponce" is to suggest someone (perhaps artificially) slightly superior, sniffy or stuck up. However, the flannelled fool had already made that accusation against me.

He had asserted as a "fact" that I had a crush on him. So he is the one making the accusation of homosexuality, and once again demonstrates that he is a stinking hypocrite. Another fine mess, once again]