Don't pretend you don't tune in to catch those hidden Satanic messages on the 'Winning Streak' audience banners

FIVE YEARS AGO, I truly believed the internet was about to kill television. Many TV producers, channel controllers, tech journalists and people with "digital consultant" in their job title agreed. In an age of DVRs, YouTube and Netflix, how could a station like RTÉ survive? But, as is often the case, the new technologies bedded in and the predicted sea changes turned out to be a little less dramatic. Sure, you can now consume TV in different ways – from catch-up services to box sets – but there are still channels with schedules and time slots and Eamonn Holmes. Families still gather around every Saturday night to see performing children be humiliated by adults. And don't pretend you don't tune in to catch those hidden Satanic messages on the Winning Streakaudience banners. What, you didn't know?

What has changed is the way in which we consume television, alongside other media. I started tweeting on May 17th, 2008. It was a simpler, happier time for simple, happy things such as running your economy and most of us were blissfully unaware of such concepts as unsecured bondholder, fiscal compact and David Drumm.

At first, I thought it was a silly distraction. Now, 29,491 tweets later (and counting), it has become as much a part of my daily life as coffee or the IMF. I’ve made real-life friends. I even scored an All-Ireland final ticket.

Of all social media, Twitter has probably influenced my TV viewing experience the most. An instant online community can spring up around a TV show. The use of hashtags such as #latelate, #masterchef or #xfactor can transform what may otherwise be a mundane and passive television experience into a fully interactive event.

Commentary can range from sharp television criticism – “slim pickings in the RTÉ canteen today #latelate” – to serious political commentary – “the only thing Michael Noonan should be cutting in this budget is that tie of his. Atrocious. #budget2012”. And, in case we needed reminding, it can even bring down a presidential candidate.

Programmes that incorporate this online activity best tend to be the ones that are reactive to it but don't overstate their social media credentials. So, for instance, my online community of choice would be the one that has formed around A Scare At Bedtime With Vincent Browneon TV3. It has become the late-night hub for a raggle-taggle band of misanthropic hacks, frustrated politicos and celebrity economists that I like to call the Contrariat.

Using the hashtag #vinb you can discuss all the burning political questions of the day: Will this crippling austerity work? Where were these experts five years ago? Is it true that Vincent sleeps in a coffin under the desk? And Vincent will read out his favourite comments from, as he calls it, “the Twitter machine”. It’s uncomplicated, organic and unbelievably depressing.

On Twitter, we see the emergence of a new interactive space that runs concurrent to the TV schedule, sometimes becoming the main source of entertainment itself. These new technologies aren’t likely to replace TV any time soon – it is still where we go for a shared national experience – but they could prove to be its saviour. And, speaking completely objectively, as someone who makes his living from television, this is surely a good thing for Irish society as a whole.

Colm Tobin is a prolific tweeter who also finds time to make TV programmes