Dawn Porter used to write for Stylist magazine. She also tweets like someone who used to write for Stylist magazine. There you go, that’s it, that’s the entry.
Do your really need more? Sigh… you remember Dawn Porter, right? She used to be on the TV more than photos of dead relatives in Catholic households. She made “kooky” documentaries about shit like modern dating, coming across to the world like Louis Theroux if he’d had 90% of his IQ replaced with cupcake frosting. She made Claudia Winkelman look like Studs Terkel. Looks kinda like her that used to do the AOL adverts in that late 90s. She married to the whiteboy from The IT Crowd. Weird how so many people in a list of Twitter’s most reprehensible are loosely connected to Graham Linehan, huh?
Start with that username though. @HotPatooties. It’s infantilized. Knowing. Affected. Precious. Precocious. Like a burlesque routine performed to Shirley Temple songs, and only less slightly vomit-inducing. @HotPatooties is not a name I would adopt as a professional adult, it’s a name I would adopt if I was selling bespoke nipple tassels on Etsy. Then I would plunge a tantō into my abdomen.
We’ve spoken a bit about the current British media class here before, and some of the males involved in that movement have quite rightly taken their lumps for being having childish obsessions that suggest they live in an emotionally arrested state: playing video games, watching science fiction, caring about atheism. Dawn Porter represents the female side of this, where people who presumably have a mortgage and a proper cheeseboard still feel the need to act like they’re being vox popped for J17.
How do you think Dawn Porter announced to Twitter that she was getting married to White Ayoade? If you guessed “by quoting Beyonce lyrics and using a hashtag”,you get three bonus questions on 19th century leaders. I appreciate that white women actually start melting if they go more than four hours without Beyonce or Bonnie Tyler, but there’s a time and a place for this kind of stuff.
Dawn Porter’s Twitter account isn’t even words, it’s just a long and constant noise, a numbers channel of things being “so random”, words type in capital letters for no apparent reason and endless exclamation marks. It’s like being trapped in the internal monologue of a bipolar sufferer for 50% of their life.
There’s also something else though… Dawn Porter hates women. Really, really hates women. She can’t go through fifteen minutes without saying something ridiculous like “I know Feminism & everything, but some mornings I feel really sorry for guys that they can’t hide under layers of make up *pours on coverup*”. You remember when Constance Lytton self-immolated in order to ban foundation, right?
Or maybe you could think about the time our Dawn declared that, and here is a direct quote, “women who say porn is degrading are inadvertently degrading women”. This is basically the equivalent of you trying to convince your girlfriend that swallowing is actually a feminist statement. Except nobody’s giving me a public platform to do that. Dawn Porter recently appeared at a talk entitled “I am a feminist. Can I still vajazzle?” Dawn Porter clearly, clearly hates women. But then, if the woman I spent most time around was Dawn Porter, I’d hate women as well.
“Have decided 2 pretend the cheers I hear from the Footy on the TV downstairs is actually my boyfriend cheering because he is my boyfriend”
“WHY DO I LOSE EVERYTHING? WHY? WHY CANT I JUST FIND A PLACE TO PUT THINGS SO WHEN I NEED THEM THEY ARE THERE? WHY?? WHHHY?? #iknowwhy #idiot”
“My food just arrived. *Sex face*”