TWITTER: Telling our planet's most exciting celebrities that you're a fucking idiot

Celebrities make us feel special. They take us to magical places where everything is awesome. When someone like Kim Kardashian appears on TV doing something glamorous with her ass and possibly a cat, it can shut down the part of our brains reserved for silent, private approval.

Before the internet was invented, the only way you could talk to a celebrity was if they were on a book-signing tour, attending a premiere or hitting you with their car while drunk. Imagine Tess Daly just appeared on Strictly Come Dancing next to the unkillable corpse of Bruce Forsyth and you wanted to thank her personally for adding sparkle to your evening – you'd probably have to travel great distances, climb up fire escapes and hope that 'under her bed' is not on a hotel security guard's check list, just to get that once in a lifetime chance to tell her how much of your everything needs to be inside her.

Since the average human face has not developed the capacity to be resistant to the business end of Tess Daly, it's not surprising that the internet has developed easier options for making contact with our idols. These days all you need to tell a celebrity how much your genitals enjoy their work is a computer, a fast connection, and a keyboard that can support both flippers and a star struck erection. Welcome to the wonderful world of Twitter. 

For those of you who have been in a coma since March 2006, Twitter is an online social network & microblogging site that has been popularly utilised by many famous celebrities. Although, much like the jacuzzi in Geordie Shore, 99% of Twitter is filled with the worst anythings to dribble out of a human being, 1% is non-yeast-infected-celebrity gold. It quickly became a self-publicity machine that allowed the likes of George Clooney and Ricky Gervais to share their thoughts and dreams with the world. Sadly the results are generally underwhelming, as for every Stephen Fry you found saying something witty and clever, there were roughly 100 Heidi Montags telling everyone that "Ice cream is yummy."

You have to realise that I am pretty much a chin-beard and slow dance with Kelly McGillis away from being technologically Amish. I'm the kind of person who owns an internet but doesn't know how it works. Allowing me to fool around in Twitter was like giving a Sasquatch a raygun. After 48 hours of primitive grunting and awkward experimentation it would ultimately end with the smell of burning hair and a confused John Lithgow. 

Desperate to log on & run screaming into a conversation with StreetHawk's Rex Smith, I had to have a friend explain the finer points of the network to me in a manner similar to how you might describe the plot of Turner & Hooch to a victim of head trauma. "TOM HANKS AND DOG HILARIOUSLY FOIL CRIMES. REMEMBER TO PUT A FUCKING '@' AT THE START." And with that I was ready to Tweet.

Trying not to sound like an idiot on the internet isn't easy.  The problem with people contacting stars via short electronic communications is that anything we write is automatically subject to the 'Nights on Broadway' Factor (A scientifically proven theory based on the popular BeeGees 1975 hit, in which even the most honest and heartfelt expressions of love can sound so creepy you'd think you wrote them while dressed as a werewolf and covered in centipedes).

This issue is amplified by the fact that Twitter only gives you 140 characters with which to express yourself. With so many things to say and so little space to hammer, attempting to concisely express your feelings of admiration to William Daniels, the voice of Kitt from KnightRider, is like trying to scream the lyrics to Kiss From A Rose out of the back of a speeding pick-up-truck and it's a lot easier to sound insane in 140 letters than it is to sound poetic, as the product description on a pack of 'intimate urethra sounding rods' will testify.

Everything feels rushed and the pressure of messaging a celebrity can often cause our brains take a shit on the keyboard which is probably why, less than 24 hours into Twitter, I ended up doing what anyone else with a Twitter account would do: I found 'JOHN LITHGOW' and embarrassed myself.

I wandered into the Emmy Award winning actor's page just as he was sharing links to his new book. He had accidentally directed his fans to a page relating to a Salma Hayek autobiography and apologised appropriately with style and dignity you'd expect from a classically trained actor who once appeared in a movie where Sasquatch comically destroyed his toilet. So obviously I replied.

I can only pray that when he read 'EXCITING MEXICAN TITS' he nodded both patiently and approvingly before reclining back onto a bed made entirely from 'BigFoot & The Hendersons' dollars.

Twitter: Sometimes it's smarter to shut the fuck up.