THERE is something futile about getting embroiled in a political debate on social media.

In the case of Twitter, it’s an opportunity to make a decent point, but the author is hampered by the 140-character limit. So, condensing a nuanced argument down to a succinct self-contained sentence is a difficult job. It’s like trying to get dressed in a wardrobe – very fiddly, and when you’re finished there’s a high chance of you looking stupid.

I have steered clear from it over the last few years, because one word out of place and you’re on a one-way road to disaster, where you’re having to explain your point to hundreds if not thousands of pitch-fork wielding activists.

My politics are mostly centre-left, so this week’s summer Budget was, for me, very worrying. Ironically, I won’t be adversely affected by the policies announced, I’ll probably be a bit better off, but there are families who will be £200 a month down. Those are the hard-working families that were supposed to be protected.

But make a point like that on Twitter and you’ll likely be labelled a ‘lefty’ or a hippy, a champagne socialist or, even worse, a ‘woolly liberal’.

Facebook’s perhaps even worse for any kind of political discourse. Most of the discussion takes place around pictures of supposed government policies, usually proven to be either American or completely made up. Something like “penguins have to pay tax but fat cats don’t. Like this status and save a penguin today” which is liked and shared by thousands of people who should know better.

These pictures are shared unchecked by Facebook’s users, but while the comment system and the absence of a word limit does lend itself quite well to effective debate, you’re coming up against people who turn into complete idiots when they have a keyboard in front of them.

So, for want of an easy life, I try to leave it.

My first political comment came when I was seven years old. I bent over, put my head through my legs as if to pretend to be talking out of my backside and shouted “I’M MAGGIE THATCHER! I’M MAGGIE THATCHER!”

I haven’t put it better since.

The Northern Echo: Raheem Sterling.has not completed a full 90 minutes for Liverpool since December

STERLING RINGING IN SICK IS NOTHING NEW

FOOTBALL fans have been up in arms this week over wantaway Liverpool striker Raheem Sterling, who has missed pre-season training because he’s called in sick.

It’s perfectly acceptable to call in sick. If you are sick, that is. But people need to remember that young Raheem is only 20. When I was 20 I used to use sick days as a holiday allowance.

The sun is out, the temperature has been up in the 20s, who can blame Raheem for putting on a croaky voice and ringing up his boss?

Pulling a sickie is a rite of passage for any youngster. It may be wrong, but everyone used to do it when I was his age.

One of my call centre jobs had a sick hotline. If you were poorly, simply ring up the number, leave a message and if they needed any more information, they’d call back. But by ringing the number and leaving the message, you’d fulfilled your contractual obligations.

I’d get mine in early, around 7am, put my croakiest voice on and spin a yarn. The first few times I did it, I didn’t get a call back. “Head cold.” “Sniffle.” “D&V” were my usual excuses, but, as a 20-year-old would do, I started to get cocky.

Thinking that perhaps nobody listened to these messages, I informed my employers that I had all of the symptoms of SARS – the virulent and deadly strain of flu which killed hundreds in China and Hong Kong at the time.

My phone lit up like a Christmas tree about an hour later, and by the 30th missed call, I decided to face the music and was informed, in no uncertain terms, that abusing the sickline system was to be viewed in the future as a disciplinary offence. Another lesson learned.

MY WEEK IN A TWEET