You know what listicles sounds a little bit like? Testicles. Basically the first syllable is different but after that they're the same word. And there's a reason for that. If you ever use the word listicles in a non-ironic sense then you are almost genetically certain to be someone who talks utter balls most of the time.
It's like factoids. Oh very clever, mister former in the afternoon on Radio One disc jockey who is now in the afternoon on Radio Smashy & Nicey. Very clever that you came up with an entirely needless word. A fact is a fact is a fact is a goddamned, butt-fucking fact whatever 'mass' it may appear to possess, whatever 'size' your three remaining listeners perceive that fact to stretch to in relation to other mental constructs of dubious conversational merit.
So there's no such thing as a fucking factoid, there are just fucking facts. And, fatuous former in the afternoon on Radio One disc jockey dressed like you want to be buggered by the whole of Harrow's post-pubescent snobs during Henley's world famous regatta before you return to puking out insidious pieces of spurious information during said in the afternoon on Radio Smashy & Nicey show, you will never achieve that desperate dream of learning that your two remaining listeners (one just died from an overdose of the tedium permeating from your voice over the airwaves) may have emitted girlish chuckles and quietly said to themselves "Well I never knew that,mint that amusing?"
In reality your single remaining listener (the other one just put a twelve-bore to their face and went off to join Percy Thrower in the special heaven for people with awful buckshot deformities) is likely to say, very loudly, "What a pile of meaningless wankery!" before throwing their DAB radio through a window and making a note to themselves to chop it all to fuck with the lawn mower on Sunday.
Listicles are the same as that only without the radio show. Whoever wins the next election (please let it be a coalition government run by Sue Perkins and Randy Newman) the only law I care about them passing once they have killed off all the bastard rich fuckers and given the NHS back to the people it is meant to help to live fulfilling lives even if they do have terminal illnesses, the only law I want them to pass after that is a law decreeing that hanging will be brought back for anyone who ever uses the word listicle without it being expressly clear that they are either being ironic or are in fact a former chimpanzee who spontaneously evolved a couple of notches one night and woke up to discover they're now employed as a tube station ticket collector.
And when I say hanging, what I mean is that the criminal should be hung upside down by their ankles begging forgiveness for ever believing that the word list is size-relevant or would need a smaller version of itself to convey the concept of smaller lists while people hit them with sticks as though they are human piñatas.
A list that isn't as big as other lists is a smaller list. It really fucking isn't a listicle. I wonder if you'd find it funny if people with smaller than average hands came round your house in vast crowds and smashed you endlessly in your irony-free zone of a face with their fisticles? You wouldn't? Now you know how the rest of us feel about your use of language, you factoidal, listicle wankers, whether you're disc jockeys or not.
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