Harry Redknapp’s Inexorable March to Twitter Dickpic City

Harry Redknapp joined Twitter yesterday, a seminal moment in the history of – and I don't think this is a hyperbolic thing to say – not just social media, but the world. This is a man who once said, in October, "I don't know what Twitter is. I don't want to know. It doesn't interest me one little bit." A man who once said, "I can't work a computer. I don't know what an email is; I've never even sent a text message." A man who once said – in court – "I can't spell, and I've never sent a text": that man is now a Twitter power user. If Harry Redknapp can change, why can't you? Harry Redknapp's Twitter account should be used as a peacekeeping tactic on behalf of the UN. "If Harry Redknapp can quash his hatred of social media," Netanyahu will concede, "Why shouldn't Israel quash its hatred of Palestine?"

But now is not the time for cynicism. Now is the time for over-analysing Harry Redknapp's new Twitter account. Here's the first thing he brought to the table:

Let's see what this is all about then.

— Harry Redknapp (@Redknapp)June 8, 2015

Hello, here he is. This was swiftly followed up, apropos of nothing, by a very odd and anachronistic semi-reference to some old video of Harry Redknapp at a fan forum, defending Frank Lampard, then a youth player at West Ham:

That West Ham fan was right, Frank Lampard was no good as a player after all.

— Harry Redknapp (@Redknapp)June 8, 2015

Trending on VICE Sports: The End of the Legends Era

This second tweet gives away a lot more about how and why Harry Redknapp ended up joining Twitter. It strikes me as though it was written by committee. Three sports journalism graduates in a room, Harry Redknapp at the head of the table, idly playing with a bobblehead of Niko Kranjcar. "HERE," Harry Redknapp is saying, in that charmingly straightforward way of his. "WHAT'S FUNNY?" The least nervous graduate steps forward. "Well, you are, sort of. You're like: an online joke." A 45-minute tour of YouTube videos where Harry Redknapp keeps pressing the pause button with his big finger because he doesn't quite understand the concept of film and TV. "SO WHAT'S THIS TWITTER FING AGAIN?" Two hours and a whiteboard diagram later, and he's got it. "YEAH, WE SHOULD JOIN. WRITE SOME JOKES ABOUT FRANKIE." They write a joke about Frankie. They write a joke about Big Frankie Lampard.

The third tweet is arguably Harry's most interesting. Because, firstly, depending on how you read it, it could be threatening or tender, direct or brusque.

— Harry Redknapp (@Redknapp)June 8, 2015

Is it a threat? Are they friends? Are they lovers? Are they enemies? Vaughan's non-response and Redknapp's aversion to punctuation makes it impossible to tell. We are in a big grey limbo, unsure of whether we're sat on the side of love or hate.

Harry's fourth tweet – " Afternoon John", said in reply to former striker and pundit John Hartson welcoming him to the fold – suggests Harry Redknapp's default response to any single comment made or aimed at him is to remark on whether it is the morning or the afternoon and then add that person's name. Harry Redknapp is a barking robot made of meat.

By now Harry is getting into his stride. He knows from the feedback his three sports journalism graduates gave him that talking vaguely about YouTube works: "YEAH, NO IT DONE TRIFFIC THAT ONE." Now he decides to take it one step further: he shares a video of him being hit with a golf ball by Glenn Hoddle.

Let's unpack the video of Harry Redknapp being hit with a golf ball by Glenn Hoddle, because it's culturally significant:

i. The golf ball does not hit Harry Redknapp with the force that you would expect from any single swing commonly seen in the game of golf. There is no way golf balls travel at that height unless they are coming down, out of the sky, at which point they are moving faster, with speed. I do not think it is unfair to say that, if that golf ball was hit from a distance with a club, and hit Harry Redknapp as it did above the heart, this fun viral clip would actually be a snuff movie;

ii. The arc of the golf ball suggests it has not been hit with a club but, rather, tossed underarm by Glenn Hoddle;

iii. Why is Glenn Hoddle tossing a golf ball at Harry Redknapp? This is called "disruptive media". We all enjoy seeing serious men being hit by balls: this is a very basic human function. Harry Redknapp is a figure of both groaning fun and groaning hate: of all the men in football, with all their bluster and money and tracksuit combinations, he is one of those we'd most like to see get hit with a ball. Hoddle knows this, which is why he throws a ball at him;

iv. Harry Redknapp's reaction to the ball hitting him is too rapid to not be pre-planned;

v. The overt mention of the word "charity" in the first four seconds of this video suggestions vigilant script-editing to make Harry Redknapp look as good as possible before being unwounded by a Hoddle-tossed golf ball;

vi. Conclusion: this is a viral video, and not real. Harry Redknapp has the audacity to think he can trick the world with this golf ball injury. Harry Redknapp has the nerve to think he can sit out of the social media game for years and then come straight in and on his very first day lampoon us. The brass fucking neck of Harry Redknapp. And Glenn Hoddle doesn't get out of this unscathed, either. Glenn Hoddle, if you are reading this: I've got your number, Hoddle.

I suppose there could be an addendum to that list, in point vii. the video of Glenn Hoddle lightly throwing a golf ball at Harry Redknapp was uploaded by KICCA, "the sports social network for fans to talk about their favourite stars and pundits". And lo, the real reason for Harry Redknapp being on Twitter and lightly video-assaulted by Glenn Hoddle is carefully revealed: he is on Twitter because a burgeoning rival social network paid him to be. Just like the end of Wizard of Oz, this. We were promised unrivalled banter. Instead we get an old man in a polo shirt, ineptly doing an advert.

Such is the very nature of Harry Redknapp. Harry Redknapp is a sort of walking wink, isn't he? A rolled down car window made corporeal and flesh. He is the consecutive world record holder for "Man Who Looks Most Like An Old Sad Dog". He's pomp and arrogance and 4-4-2. He's platitudes and banalities and legitimately saying the word "triffic". He loves money more than he loves 35-year-old centre backs who are long past their best. He loves money more than he likes buying the same players over and over and over again, Harry Redknapp trapped in a specific and unique purgatory, doomed to buy Jermain Defoe again and again, until Jermain Defoe cannot walk now – Jermain Defoe closing in on 100, his running days behind him, his legs cut off at the knee – Harry Redknapp still conspiring from inside an iron lung to offer him a £120,000-a-week contract.

Ostensibly, this whole Redknapp on Twitter thing is just a long, slow build-up to him messing his DMs up and posting a big red dickpic. I am calling this: Harry Redknapp will post a big red gauzy dickpic within the week. "WASN'T MY DICK," Harry Redknapp is hurriedly tweeting. "HACKERS AND TROLLS ARE VILE." Michael Vaughan has finally come to his rescue: "Sick what some people will stoop to, Harry". Harry taking to his Sun column to blast reckless and anonymous hackers, who must have somehow guessed his password, found a picture of a dick that looked as old and red and tired as Redknapp did, and posted it: that it wasn't him, that the internet is nonsense. The inevitable end-game of Harry Redknapp: taking to his moneyed newspaper column after his moneyed attempts at social media backfired and made him look a buffoon. A relic of an ancient time toiling against the sun of a bright new future. Welcome to Twitter, Harry Redknapp. Thank you for the banter.

@joelgolby

More stuff from VICE:

FHM Wrote a Guide to the Internet 20 Years Ago and It's Hilarious

The 'Paracetamol Challenge' Is an Internet Teen-Suicide Craze That Doesn't Actually Exist

Northern Irish Drinking Water May Be Contaminated with Corpse Embalming Juice