Union

You know what annoys me? People who start blogs with rhetorical questions.

And simple self-referential irony.

And people that misuse the word 'irony'.

And people that alternate between 'people who' and 'people that'.

And people that use single inverted commas instead of proper "quotation marks".

And jokes that go on to long.

What else annoys me is linguistic pedants, who think they are defending language, but completely fail to understand its nature.

My former MP Evan Harris mockingly retweeted someone saying 'Its not the Union Jack, its the Union Flag Mr Campbell... '. (The tweeter was directing his comment at Menzies Campbell on Question Time. It wasn't soup related.)

'Its not the Union Jack, its the Union Flag'

Bullshit. It is the Union Jack. Most people think of it as the Union Jack - it is most commonly referred to by that name. That is what those words now mean, whatever its origins. Language is determined by usage. It's always changing. Most of the words you use probably meant something slightly different in the past. But they changed.

Anyone who insists on calling it 'the Union Flag' is a blinkered pedant, keen to show of their 'knowledge' in the face of the facts.

Of course, language can be used in a counter intuitive or misleading way. There needs to be some consensus. But there is a consensus on the Union Jack. That consensus is that petty word-conservatives know absolutely flag shit about language.

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I don't like angry blog posts. They can be a bit lazy, and are often preaching to the converted. A bit like 10 O'Clock Live, Channel 4's worthy and increasingly good political satire show. I understand that it needs to be be in front of a live audience to justify its live-ness, but I can't help but cringe at the righteous spectator applause.

They should be banned from clapping and just be given signs saying things like 'I UNDERSTOOD THAT INTELLECTUAL REFERENCE'; 'I THINK THAT CRUDE INSULT WAS JUSTIFIED ON MORAL GROUNDS'; or 'ATTENDING THIS RECORDING CONSTITUTES POLITICAL ACTION'.

I'm sure they're all right and good, and applauding for the right reasons. But don't they just know it.

Hmm. That started as a critique of anger. Then got angry.

Anyway, the programme is flawed but ultimately important, and caters for (what is hopefully) a growing appetite for overt politicism (yes that can be a word, flagman) and the desire for real change.

It's either a cynical exploitation of twitter activism and social discontent, which manages to have its PC cake and eat it, or a brave, prominent experiment with talented individuals helping inform the young, and giving an arena for debate.

This week, Charlie Brooker gave a quick slap on the racist wrist of Richard Hammond before throwing over to Jimmy "gypsies smell" Carr, that latter of whom has toned down his overt cruelty and in non-prepared sections expresses an intelligent and sensitive point of view sadly lacking from his stand-up persona.

All in all, I'm very glad to have it on television, and feel quite protective of it, especially when reading the parade of misogyny and ditchwater sarcasm that permeates the #10oclocklive hashtag on Twitter. Though I do like reading the stupidity of people who feel compelled to watch a television programme (which is ostensibly an optional activity). It's a bit depressing, but makes me feel better about my whiny, vapid, incoherent tweets, by making me feel like Peter Cook in comparison.

One of the drawbacks of watching the show, as well as Charlie Brooker's BBC2 programme How TV Ruined Your Life (an enjoyable feast of archive footage and depressing portents of a cultural apocalypse), is that you start to absorb his style of writing: long sentences, glib similes, and punctured insights. Which makes your blog (if you have a blog - this is purely hypothetical) into a second rate Screenwipe.

And I don't even get to go home to Konnie Huq.

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It's easier to get angry about things than to get excited about them, so it's probably best to combine anger and positivity into a screwed-up ball called 'passion', and let others be the judge of your bile, your hope and your improper use of semi-colons.

The world is a wonderful, terrible place.

Now don't you forget it, you filthy miracle.