Let me guess. You’re reading this with a neutral accented low deep-sounding voice. Somewhere near a four on a scale from Barry White to Orville. You were once mistaken for an American and almost baulked at the notion. Am I right?

Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. It wouldn’t matter anyway because I’ve already, unconsciously, assigned you a tone. Refined. Never whiney. The more austere your blog page, the more quietly spoken you are.

Do you hear the voices of other bloggers? Fonts become accents, themes become tones. Excessive use of capital letters are the leaned-on shift buttons that spell emphatic feelings. Family photos the itallics of your happiness.

Your About page is spoken in your best phone-voice you don’t know you have. Yes! That really is you. It’s like reading a post back weeks after publishing and not recognising it. Is that me? No way. I DO NOT sound like that. Do I?

Swearing always sounds better in American. Though not as good as Canadian. I can tell the subtle difference. The Canadian bloggers I read usually combine it with a fuck off point on something tremendously socially serious. All feminists, and the me during work meetings, should sound Canadian; then everyone would take us seriously. Ballsy English women all sound like Sally Phillips’s sweary mate in Bridget Jones. They make beautiful profanity from the sacred.

The speed of the clicks on the keyboard mirrors the rattle of chat on the screen. But time to retreat back down to the din.

Oh I wish I could fly.