Reginald Pennyfarthing's Guide To Facebook, Volume One

In my day, if one felt inclined to increase his social standing, he had to marry into a good family or kill the pretermitted heir to a large estate, and endear himself to the benefactor in question. Each of these remain as viable options for the average American, but few seem to possess the intestinal fortitude these days required for murder or sham marriages. Tis a shame indeed, but, lucky for them, one can now win the adoration and envy of the masses via Facebook, a social tool invented in 1909 by Errol Duncan to give his wife another outlet for her petty rambling.

1) Be careful what you like. This silly "like" button has turned a great deal of dandies into common louts in the eyes of the public. Take my old friend Lord Darkstone--you may remember him from his formulaic dust-ups with that churl Sherlock Holmes. Well my dear chum Darkstone got "like-"happy one day and, before you know it, he was giving the thumbs-up to swill beer, Angelina Jolie and the Ford F-150--all terribly low entities to be certain. Once, he was as urbane and dapper as Henry Charlwood; now, he's as slovenly and pitiful as "Stinky" Dick Barlow. He is required to pay prostitutes an extra six pence per visit--a sort of ugly tax, we suspect--he enjoys the films of Michael Bay and I thought it best to not invite him to my last birthday party.

Heed the lesson, lest Darkstone's descent be completely in vain.

2) Unless you're a lowly attention-strumpet, abstain from open-ended status updates. These updates-- which might read, "Nothing ever goes right for me," or "This is the worst day EVER"--are nothing more than invitations to a naif's pity party--and dandies are not pitied. Indeed, if anything, dandies would do the pitying--of course, they don't.

Sympathizing with others is one of the many curses of the working classes.

3) With regard to your profile picture, thou shalt not pull your shirt up and take a photo in the mirror with your phone. Should you find yourself without any friends to take your photograph, simply commission an artist to paint your likeness atop a gallant horse. Mine was painted by JMW Turner, after which he spent every last pound I paid him on a three-day bender through the streets of Cambridge with yours truly. As you may be unable to commission Turner--either because you are socially undecorated, or because he's been dead for 159 years--you may consider a photo from the good people at Glamour Shots. I hear they do fine work.

4) Never accept a friend request from an unworldly tyro. This is a good rule in day-to-day life as well, though it is remarkably easier to avoid the lower classes on Facebook. Should a friend of mine befriend someone who, say, wears clothes from Target, that reflects rather poorly on yours truly. A great many of my so-called friends have fallen victim to this rule, and a polite de-friending is as hopeful a conclusion possible for one who mucks up my computer screen with a gaggle of unrefined friends. In 1839, I shot my chum Stanley Jackson in a duel. What precipitated this showdown? Well, thanks to old Stanley, it was suggested that I become friends with a fellow by the name of "T-Bone." So miffed was I at this suggestion, I shot my friend in the face. Do I feel bad? Sometimes, when I'm leaving his wife's bedchamber, and have to walk by his chubby, despondent children. But you had better believe I'd do it again--because this rule is as necessary as a moustache comb or pipe tobacco.

Which is to say, it's absolutely bloody necessary.

5) Only the most buffoonish, mealy-mouthed louts intentionally misspell words. One of my many illegitimate children once wrote on my wall "Can't wait 2 c u Dad!" Lovely sentiment after my eight-year absence from his life, granted--but wholly unacceptable from the seed of Reginald Pennyfarthing. So, in turn, I beat the contractions out of him with a bag of dictionaries. The English language is not a prostitute, to be disrespected, spit on and punched in the face (Or, in the case of my old friend Jack, cut apart with surgical implements). It is a lady of the highest order, who seems at times untouchable, but will put out if you treat her right.