Plan B although I’m not sure it shouldn’t be Plan A because I’m not sure I’ve ever made a plan before is to stop listen feel the rhythm and move to the beat of a different drum. With apologies for the lack of punctuation, it is important to note that the previous sentence is precisely 140 characters long.

There must be others out there like me, jam brained, where everything that goes in gets stuck and you end up spending most of every waking hour moving what ifs around inside your head and, if onlys as a form of torture; an abstract construct of that jam filled donut about the injustices of the world and how life could have been.

If only, two words that could change a man’s life.

The natives are restless, (as they have been in the past), but I was never very good at dancing - got two left feet, got one clubfoot - never had a full dance card, always preferring instead to stand in the corner and tap the one good foot wildly, although covertly imagining the execution of outrageous dance moves on centre stage.

In my youth I often frequented ’dance halls’ with a mate, where we would perform the ’stunned mullet’, much to the alarm of other patrons. Wearing lab coats and welding goggles we’d lie on our back and twitch like fish flapping around at the bottom of a prawn trawler having just been hauled in from the sea. Well, it used to amuse us. In a way it was our own form of social networking, twittering if you like, although we didn’t win too many conversations with girls, or, dance competitions for that matter. There is no doubt we were social geniuses before our time!

Networking has never been my strong suit, and it doesn’t suit everyone, but these days, with the proliferation and convergence of social media technologies and their applications - Facebook, Twitter, blogging etc - I have never felt more socially isolated than at any time in the history of the universe. Why? Because I don’t dance!

Apparently, our Dear Leader, the technologically savvy and Gen Y groupie, K Rudd, has nearly 1 million Twitter followers. In other words, nearly 1 million people across the universe, wait twitchily by their mobiles, i phones and ’Blueberry’s’, just to read the latest 140 character numinous musings of our band master - refer to the gobbledegook in the first sentence of this editorial for a taste of what can be achieved in 140 characters.

Give me a break.

But what’s even more impressive is that apparently our Prime Minister ’follows’ up to 200,000 Tweeters - that’s a Twitter who tweets - himself! How do you do that and still have time to run the Country? That’s a rhetorical question.

No, not for me, I’d rather continue having conversations in my own head - at least I answer back. So, on second thoughts I might just remain as I am, I don’t need social ’twit-nits’ to tell me what to think or do and I don’t need social networking to complete me. What ifs and if onlys provide enough paranoia for one’s life.

So band master, strike up the band - let’s dance!

Gary Hatwell Executive Chairman