I WAS reading about this new internet sensation called Twitter. Apparently anybody who is anybody is twittering.

You sign up, get your own web space and write down anything that comes into your head for other people to read. A sort of stream of consciousness diary. You can record whatever you might be doing at that particular moment.

"Cutting my toenails. Carefully."

It’s all instant access to the web these days what with notebooks (they used to be called laptops), blackberries, and emails on your mobiles and something called bluetooth.

Wherever you are and whatever you are doing, it is now possible to make contact with Eric in Slaithwaite even if you happen to be in Timbuctoo.

Twitter sounds like an egoists dream, charting your daily life and poetry and inner schemes, as if anybody would be really interested, unless it was the fluent and brilliant ramblings of Stephen Fry.

Fry is actually one of the major players on Twitter and has 378,627 followers, which is no surprise, as his ramblings really are erudite and interesting.

I signed up to Twitter to see what all the fuss was about and discovered that many of the celebrity names you find are actually fakes. There were six Keira Knightleys, for instance, which does not bear thinking about. Sad people pretending to be famous and hoping to attract "followers" to their blog.

And I’m not too sure I like the term "follower" – it smacks of secret organisations and people wearing cloaks and masks.

Barak Obama has 18,387 followers although as far as I can tell, he has actually said nothing. Jeremy Clarkson has 43,814 followers. A few more and he could march on Parliament. Go on, Clarkson, somebody should.

Mind you, within a few minutes of signing up, even I attracted two followers. A rather forward young lady called Blondie from the West Coast of America (whose account has since been suspended for reasons undisclosed) and Chris Clarke from Toronto. Very nice to meet you, Chris, but why me?

I have never been a fan of Facebook or MySpace or other sites that encourage bloggers to divulge all sorts of personal information that could be useful to an urban guerrilla seeking a new identity.

I shall not participate in Twitter and will allow my membership to gently lapse. I feel no need for virtual reality friends when I have real ones.