Thursday, 22 April 2010

Looking for me?

The stats thing isn't very interesting in terms of numbers but it's very interesting indeed in terms of where visitors come from. Most interesting of all are Google searches. They suggest that people have been told about me in the real world and are looking me up. That, as a smoking campaigner, is encouraging.

Hello, county councils. Hello, Brussels. Yes, I am here to make your lives as miserable as you've made mine.

The best one today was a Google search on 'Who is leg iron journal blogger?' From Cardiff.

Idiot. That search turned up the old Livejournal site as the first query and pretty much nothing else. Did it never occur to you to ask me? Nobody ever has, you know. A few bloggers know and I have met one in person but on the site, nobody has asked.

Because it doesn't matter at all. The concepts are valid no matter where they originate. Who speaks the words matters not at all. Only the words matter. I'm just the one who says them. I am not the droid you are looking for. One film reference in one paragraph could be misfortune, two look like carelessness. Damn, that's two films and a play!

Today, a page went live on an online magazine that has a picture of me - the only one on the internet - along with a list of my main online identities and it is not hard to find. One of me points the way.

My minor identities are not listed. The ones that come and go. Obo and a few others will recognise Tony Steel (toe, knee, steel, come on, how obvious can I get?) as will some leftie sites I've played with but those are transients. I don't use them often and Tony's done his time.

I am not hard to find. Not at all. It just takes a little more effort than asking Google, who don't know. Even armed with my real name I am a book hidden in a library.

It would make more sense to ask me.

Of course, I might lie.


Man with Many Chins said...

So who are you then?

Not that I give a flying fuck to be honest!

Uncle Marvo said...

I did read earlier (loose connection here) that the police are looking for an escaped lunatic who is apparently holed up the the houses of parliament.

A spokesman said "it's like looking for a needle in a haystack".

Snowolf said...

I'm Leg-Iron and so's my wife!

Man with Many Chins said...

@snowolf lol

subrosa said...

I don't give a 4X who you are now that I know I would never consider asking you to help me out in my garden. The insurance would be prohibitive. :)

Anonymous said...

Eddie Douthwaite, Chairman of Freedom To Choose (Scotland) interviewed on Leith FM Radio on 20 April 2010.

Listen to the voice of reason:-

Cynarae said...

I am not hard to find. Not at all. It just takes a little more effort than asking Google, who don't know.

You just find the airports in Scotland with a view of the aurora borealis, then you go from door to door in a 15 mile radius telling the male population that they have the chance to win a bottle of fine whiskey if they can answer yes to this question : "Did you get your male parts crushed by a rhubarb?".
Sounds quite simple and like a great adventure.

Anonymous said...

hi, I don't know who you are but I always enjoy reading you ; do please keep it up and all the best!

hangemall said...

OMG it's horrible. As if the Doctor (look down the right-hand side of the page) has cloned the Ians Lavender and Hislop into one. But have a stiff one first.

WV=efanasin (Evans the Assassin?)

Leg-iron said...

Who am I?

I'm me. Everyone knows that.

Cynarae - I can thwart your cunning plan by carrying some rhubarb and whacking a few guys in the nuts with it.

So if you're in the area, beware of the rhubarb-weilding madman!

Anonymous said...

You're Mr E Go surely?

Non-smoking OAP

Anonymous said...

There are two photos of the real you on the interweb actually!

Leg-iron said...

Anon 00:48 - Nope, but I'm your enemy, and the enemy of all antismokers. I didn't choose this role, you chose it for me. I'm just doing the best I can.

Anon 2:23 - well spotted. Told you I wasn't hard to find!

Cynarae said...

Leggy - I actually twarted my own cunning plan since everyone could claim to have been crushed by a rhubarb or been hit by a rhubarb-weilding madman and since I couldn't afford all that whiskey I'd have to see the proof.
Now as a woman I do quite like the male anatomy but even I have my limits.

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