Writers and journalists—and in some cases teachers, doctors, and members of the emergency services—will, in the very near future, be paid solely in Facebook likes, it has been revealed.
In the wake of the tragic case of Merritt Tierce, the government has unveiled a plan to work alongside the social media giant and do away with all forms of financial remuneration for anyone providing “creative and/or non-essential public services”, replacing their wages with likes, comments, and—in the case of firefighters and plastic surgeons—shares.
“This is great news,” said Pat Mucci, a struggling writer from Faringham, North Bucks, who runs super-serious news blog, The Failing Banjostring. “Up until now, I’ve been getting paid in cash, which is usually delivered in wheelbarrows right to my front door, by a fleet of Taylor Swift lookalikes. As nice as that is, what can you really do with money? I mean, apart from pay your rent, buy food, and maybe take the kids to the cinema once a month. What good is all that without the likes, though?
“I think The Rolling Stones said it best: money can’t buy you love.”
Likes can already be bought*, from both Facebook and Instagram, but following a deal that includes big-name publishing houses such as Random House, these bought likes will now be issued automatically by Facebook whenever a writer posts.
“My friends and family will be over the moon,” continued Mucci. “They’re usually such tightwads when it comes to liking anything I post. This [new initiative] eases the pressure massively, and makes things less awkward when we meet up. I know writing doesn’t require as much effort as, say, taking a quick photo of your cute kid—for which people dish out the likes willy-nilly—but still.
“I’m always singing that song by The Fugees—you know the one I mean? “Where Is The Love?” Except I change the lyrics to “where are the likes?”
“People just don’t understand how needy we writers are.”
In a brief interview with The Daily Bandwagon, a spokesperson for the government revealed that there had been tentative plans to include Twitter likes—formerly known as ‘favorites’—in the package, but this proposal was met with widespread opposition and derision. “Twitter likes?” said one man, just as he was about to launch a family-size pot of Yeo Valley yogurt at a BetFred betting shop. “What the f–k are they? You might as well pay those poor sods in Bitcoin.”
“I don’t really get it,” mumbled someone under thirty.
* No, really.
