Magaluf party shithole

A few months ago, I attempted to shield myself from all news bulletins after I heard a quote from William Hague, in which he said that Europe faced the great danger of “a real shooting conflict” if Russian forces entered eastern Ukraine. That sounded much scarier than a purely imaginary non-shooting conflict, where enemy troops merely startle each other by jumping out from behind bushes, tooting on kazoos, so I tried to avoid all mention of the crisis.

The online rumour mill of doom

Facebook really is a social media platform of firsts. For instance, it was where I saw someone spell ‘flying’ with a ‘ph’ instead of an ‘f’. And thanks to Facebook’s mind-bending algorithms presenting me with largely irrelevant content produced by total strangers, I was also recently afforded the opportunity of seeing the status update of an Ibiza-loving prick with Jägermeister and foam for brains, who proclaimed that his friend was “the girl that put the ‘E’ into ‘partiE'”. (I weep for the future.)