FOR yonks I have resisted the Siren-like lure of TikTok. Even through the dark and tedious days of lockdown, when it felt like everyone was using the social media platform to record choreographed dance routines or share the progress of their sourdough starter, I steered clear.

I intended to keep it that way until a friend sent me a clip of Border Collies joyfully chasing a tennis ball. I watched it on a loop. Then I looked at some more posts about Border Collies. And down the rabbit hole I tumbled.

Perusing the antics of Border Collies segued into videos about a cheeky talking bird, a recipe for margaritas, spooky highway ghost stories, make-up tutorials and a slew of so-called "life hacks".

Then came gardening tips, a stomach-flipping parachute jump, cute goats bouncing on a trampoline and someone getting a giant cyst excised.

Next it was foraging adventures through hedgerows, quail hatching (allegedly) from shop-bought eggs and a guy lip-syncing the words to Mandy by Barry Manilow.

I looked up and an hour had passed in the blink of an eye. The upshot? I was well and truly hooked. The downside: I was well and truly hooked.

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The singer Avril Lavigne made her TikTok debut to great fanfare last week. She did so in go-big-or-go-home fashion with a video featuring skateboarding legend Tony Hawk – a slick homage to her 2002 hit song Sk8er Boi.

Unlike Lavigne, I haven't made a grand entrance. In fact, I haven't posted one single thing. Rather, I lurk like a net-curtain twitching voyeur, marvelling at the gumption/narcissism of those who use TikTok like their own personal catwalk.

I approach TikTok in much the same vein as an evening of watching telly – well, if each programme lasted only 60 seconds and had an earworm soundtrack of Good 4 U by Olivia Rodrigo, Into The Thick Of It from the animated children's series The Backyardigans or creepy Halloween music.

Some things I have gleaned from TikTok:

1) The algorithm knows you better than you know yourself

I never realised how much I needed videos of people organising their kitchen pantries in my life.

2) Copycats loom large

Much of the content is folk shamelessly mimicking other people's video ideas. Often badly. I always come away feeling slightly soiled. It reminds me of going to Bathgate market in 1991, buying a knock-off Naf Naf jumper which read "Naff Naff" and hoping no one would notice (they did).

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3) Reaction videos are annoying

This is where a TikToker shares their response to another video using a split screen. It is a bit like trying to enjoy a quiet drink in the pub and someone insisting that you listen to all their boring opinions (similar to reading this column, but hey, you are almost at the end of this latest dispatch).

Final takeaway? If there was ever a sign that a social media platform was on the outs of being considered cool, then me darkening its door would be probably it.

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