Deborah Ross: Never get embroiled in a Twitter storm on a Sunday

If you ask me...

If you ask me, I have decided to interview myself about where I am with the gay community and the Christians as both are calling for my head on a plate and, although I was reluctant initially, once I had promised myself hair, make-up and copy approval, it was all systems go:

Thanks, Deborah, for taking the time out of your busy schedule to talk to us today.

No problem. And between you and me – don't print this whatever you do! – I haven't actually been busy since 1974, and even then I was only pretending.

You recently offended committed Christians, didn't you?

Seems so. I certainly look both ways when I leave the house now, in case they are out there, waiting to smite my loins. My loins aren't up to much, but I don't want them smited. Spanx are bad enough. Have you ever had your loins Spanxed? Agony! Plus, they may also slay my bullocks, and then where will I be?

Any other precautions?

I've hidden my first-born in the laundry bin.

And the gays?

For the first time ever, I Tweeted a column – the one on locking up your family values so the gays can't steal them – but everyone read the prefacing remark ("Gays ARE a real threat") and didn't click the link. Call me old-fashioned, as I've been called a lot worse, but I didn't expect people to weigh in without having read something.

This resulted in a Twitter storm over the weekend, and you received a barrage of abuse, didn't you?

One person Tweeted "I hope you get Aids and die", to which I replied: "If they slay my bullocks, so do I." Another called me a "fashest".

Are you a "fashest"?

Yes, and I drive the fashest milk cart in the west.

You do realise that doesn't make sense, don't you?

Don't be picky. You begged me for this interview, remember.

Did anyone at the Indy come to your aid?

Only @MASieghart. I was so appreciative, I told her I'd knock a year off her real age from now on.

Not Robert Fisk?

Not a word. It's just Homs, Homs, Homs, Homs, Homs, with him. I'm minded to shake him and say: "Wake up and smell the coffee, Robert. They are all for smiting my loins here."

What have you learned from all this?

Never get embroiled in a Twitter storm on a Sunday. You'll miss The Antiques Roadshow. I'm also thinking some gays may wish to steal the traditional family value of literacy.

Anything else?

If you are going to hide your first-born in the laundry bin, do drill some air holes first. A bit unfortunate, that.