character immediately left me and I returned back to the scene. My thoughts were that Oliver Jackson could handle his new friends by himself. Maybe this was wrong of me and I should have been more understanding considering what he had just been through, but I wasn’t and there you go and here we are. What I did do was let the trolls hear my voice so that they would know that I was Irish and most definitely not Oliver Jackson. Perhaps even that was too generous of me considering, but I was fearful that someone, troll or otherwise, would physically attack him because of all of this. I do know that if he hadn’t gone and done what he done then I would certainly have stayed away permanently and subsequent events, including this book, would never have occurred.
When this Oliver had been fail-doxed as me the trolls were boasting that ‘Anonymous’ had tracked me down. Anonymous in this case subsequently turned out to be a bald, big-nosed, psychotic fantasist from Liverpool whom we shall call Paul Baloney, and who it later transpired had most likely blamed Oliver Jackson as being me in an act of revenge against him after an online argument over some girl from Scotland. In his early 30s, he lives with his mother and spends his entire life trolling from his bedroom yet tells people online that he is a millionaire filmmaker as well as being an undefeated street-fighting champion with extensive underworld contacts.
Baloney has reached terrifying levels of Internet psychosis. Trolling is his very existence, his very reason for staying alive; and his entire being is tied up in his online fantasy world. He’s fully prepared to risk going to jail, by god I even believe him fully prepared to risk himself being murdered, just to keep his Internet persona alive. I observed him once, in the January of 2012, trolling for over 30 hours straight. He had begun trolling on a particular Facebook group at 2pm in the day and when I looked back into that same group that night at around 12 o‘clock - a group set up specifically so people could have a go at each other on it - he was still howling away. Howling and howling and howling about things comprehensible only to himself as well as posting random screencaps that he has taken over the years of unremarkable online conversations and which he keeps posting everywhere because they ‘prove’ some things that are earth-shattering, although just what no-one sane seems to know. I could see that he clearly had been doing this non-stop all day.
Non-stop.
When I awoke the next morning and checked Facebook I was greatly amused to see that he was still at it and had been so all night. All. Fucking. Night. And still it carried on - without a break, nonsense post after nonsense post - UNTIL AFTER 8PM THAT NIGHT . When challenged on the length of this single trolling session he bizarrely claimed that it was ‘part of his job’ and that he was ‘getting well paid for it.’ Three days after Christmas 2010 I looked onto Facebook and saw that he had spent Christmas evening trolling fat people. Santa wept and I got inspired to write a takeoff of the classic Mud festive song ‘Lonely This Christmas’:
It’ll be Baloney this Christmas
Without real life friends around
It’ll be Baloney this Christmas
Baloney and cold
It’ll be cold, so cold
But at least he’ll have trolled
This Christmas
P aul Baloney is a leader of trolls. On Facebook, on where he most usually uses the name ‘Tylor Durden’ but goes by many other aliases too (the most common of those being ‘Honesto Cop’ and ‘Frankie Bags’), he runs his own indescribably sad little trolling crew named ‘Teh Council,’ over whom he rules with a rod of iron. Most of them are much younger than him - being aged from around 12 to their late teens - and so he comes across as something of an Internet Charles Manson: an older, infinitely creepy, and supremely psychotic horror show who has gathered under his wing the
When this Oliver had been fail-doxed as me the trolls were boasting that ‘Anonymous’ had tracked me down. Anonymous in this case subsequently turned out to be a bald, big-nosed, psychotic fantasist from Liverpool whom we shall call Paul Baloney, and who it later transpired had most likely blamed Oliver Jackson as being me in an act of revenge against him after an online argument over some girl from Scotland. In his early 30s, he lives with his mother and spends his entire life trolling from his bedroom yet tells people online that he is a millionaire filmmaker as well as being an undefeated street-fighting champion with extensive underworld contacts.
Baloney has reached terrifying levels of Internet psychosis. Trolling is his very existence, his very reason for staying alive; and his entire being is tied up in his online fantasy world. He’s fully prepared to risk going to jail, by god I even believe him fully prepared to risk himself being murdered, just to keep his Internet persona alive. I observed him once, in the January of 2012, trolling for over 30 hours straight. He had begun trolling on a particular Facebook group at 2pm in the day and when I looked back into that same group that night at around 12 o‘clock - a group set up specifically so people could have a go at each other on it - he was still howling away. Howling and howling and howling about things comprehensible only to himself as well as posting random screencaps that he has taken over the years of unremarkable online conversations and which he keeps posting everywhere because they ‘prove’ some things that are earth-shattering, although just what no-one sane seems to know. I could see that he clearly had been doing this non-stop all day.
Non-stop.
When I awoke the next morning and checked Facebook I was greatly amused to see that he was still at it and had been so all night. All. Fucking. Night. And still it carried on - without a break, nonsense post after nonsense post - UNTIL AFTER 8PM THAT NIGHT . When challenged on the length of this single trolling session he bizarrely claimed that it was ‘part of his job’ and that he was ‘getting well paid for it.’ Three days after Christmas 2010 I looked onto Facebook and saw that he had spent Christmas evening trolling fat people. Santa wept and I got inspired to write a takeoff of the classic Mud festive song ‘Lonely This Christmas’:
It’ll be Baloney this Christmas
Without real life friends around
It’ll be Baloney this Christmas
Baloney and cold
It’ll be cold, so cold
But at least he’ll have trolled
This Christmas
P aul Baloney is a leader of trolls. On Facebook, on where he most usually uses the name ‘Tylor Durden’ but goes by many other aliases too (the most common of those being ‘Honesto Cop’ and ‘Frankie Bags’), he runs his own indescribably sad little trolling crew named ‘Teh Council,’ over whom he rules with a rod of iron. Most of them are much younger than him - being aged from around 12 to their late teens - and so he comes across as something of an Internet Charles Manson: an older, infinitely creepy, and supremely psychotic horror show who has gathered under his wing the
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