Somewhere on this crisp and windy Christmas Eve, there is a spotty twenty-something working in a Google office. No doubt they are wearing a stupid bobble hat and red trousers – the kind of person who uses their skateboard to get to work in the morning – you know the type. Their youth means they know everything but this is not so. They are a dunderhead, a buffoon, a bampot, a numpty. They are as loathsome as a toad, a cream-faced loon, a scullion, rampallian and fustilarian. Indeed, you can add bezonian, clodpoll, dunderwhelp, grout-head, jubbernowl and looby to those descriptions.

They have no concept of life before the internet, before they could take photo’s using their smartphones and make them look shit with instagram. Their intellect is as fleeting as a Snapchat selfie and they are a proper dandiprat, fuzz-dutty and giddypate.

They think that Lol means Laugh Out Loud and have no concept that people born before the internet could have such a known name. That is the only reason I can understand for them refusing my Google+ name appeal and telling me that my name isn’t real and that nobody could possibly go by such a name.

They jump to this conclusion even though I (as requested) sent them links to my LinkedIn and Facebook profiles as well as Google search results detailing where my name is in the damn media. 

Their mother is a hamster and their father smells of elderberries. I hope their Christmas is full of A&F t-shirts and their brain falls out.

F**K YOU Googlemuppet, I was here before the internet with this name I am known by, and no spotty fewmet of a hare is going to tell me otherwise!!!