I Am Not Liz Jones: A Cautionary Tale of Identity Theft.


This is me.

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This is Liz.

Liz_Jones_2014

We’re fairly different, of course. But we will forever be connected by Facebook. This certainly has nothing to do with Liz, though.

For you see, today marks the end of the Liz Jones fan page. There were many key moments in my Facebook journey with our Liz. When I first created the page many moons ago I used it as an opportunity to skim some fame from the oft-mocked columnist and eternal neurotic by satirising her ‘ludicrous’ columns. The biography gives an easy indication of the tone:

Liz Jones is the QUEEN of appalling journalism. Her recent articles include her facelift and her breast reduction. Other successful articles include her weekly columns, Jones Moans, which is a series of things this middle-aged snob hates and her biographical pieces about her complicated love life, bankruptcy and feelings of loneliness.

This attempt at quick, gratifying and easy fame became derailed when I started reading the columnists properly, for you see, like a literary form of Stockholm Syndrome I realised I was totally on Liz’s team. Suddenly, I did an about turn, trolling was out and praising was in. No more would I say it was fair game for India Knight to infer that Liz Jones sexually abused her cats and was overall a rancid c*** .

Realising that I no longer disliked the lost and lonely Liz – especially after I read about her sperm-stealing madness I did an about turn and decided that ‘Jizz Jones’ should rise like a phoenix and become a certified Facebook Star.

To further the brand I wrote a lengthy two part review of her memoir, Girl Least Likely To, which without doubt gave me the worst reviews of my whole e-writing career so far:

Liz Jones reviews

Naturally I couldn’t work out whether these comments were basic trolling from anti-LJ fans or extremely accurate comments about the caliber of my writing, so I went 80% with the former, even though I begrudgingly spent 40 minutes correcting the plethora of technical mistakes whilst openly lamenting the absence of an editor.

Anyway, what was weird about the page beforehand was that everyone assumed I was Liz Jones, probably because they didn’t read the biography tab and couldn’t believe anybody would be sad enough to ape Liz Jones (they were wrong). But here I was inadvertently committing identity theft, something she openly criticised in an article:

Likewise when someone posed as me on Twitter {note: not me} and tried to extract mobile phone numbers out of friends and relatives.

It was all becoming a little meta, really. Saying that Liz was being trolled as I was stealing her identity and using her name for promoting my (critically-panned) article. Also, it wasn’t even working for me.

I knew I needed to say goodbye to the Liz Jones page when I started to receive a flurry of messages from people asking if I (as Liz) would attend local animal events to further promote the plight of animal cruelty worldwide. My liberal guilt was strong when I saw people pouring their hearts out to Liz (not me) with long, lengthy life stories very much akin to Liz’s confessional narratives, only for me (as Liz) to reply ‘What a lovely message. Good work. Love, Liz’

Something had to give.

I explained to people that I wasn’t Liz Jones, but naturally nobody paid attention so my final major act of subterfuge was to use Liz Jones’ name to further my personal beliefs. I took aim at Lena Dunham for the hell of it and posted the comment ‘Boy, is this chick annoying. She needs to go away.’ I count it as a tremendous honour that I received feedback from one of Australia’s top editors* and that fans of Liz Jones on the page – who didn’t question the use of ‘boy’ and ‘chick’ in the comment promised to steer clear of her hipster nonsense.

Crappy Liz

Realising I had achieved everything possible and that this mad saga needed to end (especially when the private messages hit 100) I decided to retire the name I took in vain. My apologies to Liz for joining a list of great pretenders to the Liz Jones legacy and, if it helps, Liz, I really don’t believe you masturbate your cats.

*Well, Buzzfeed Australia.

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