WHERE does the real you end and the online you begin?

Ooh deep. Like something a beret wearing philosophy student poses to his mates in the refectory.

Pretension aside, there is a valid debate to be had about whether our online behaviours should impact our real lives.

Recently, an employee in America was sacked after he posted racist comments on Facebook, sparking discussions about personal rights versus employee responsibility.

It is a modern age problem.

In times of yore, a racist would just have to share his racist views in the pub (or at some sort of racist club), thus containing his potentially career ending prejudices.

These days it is virtually the law to record your every thought online. The transience of a Tweet, and the little dopamine hit we get from it, may seem frivolous. But when you think about it you are actually etching a record of those moments into a rockface for other people to discover.

Does that mean you can’t have a personal opinion? Should those opinions, no matter how unsavoury, be held against you when expressed on your own time?

Some people who think not are the founders of racistsgettingfired.tumblr.com - a blog which tracks racist language online and names and shames the authors. (Needless to say, this blog contains extreme racism).

Most companies operate a ‘common sense’ social media policy, leaving you to manage your own account as long as you act within self determined boundaries of decency.

Some are stricter. My teacher friend was ordered to turn her Facebook into an impenetrable Alcatraz of security meaning even I couldn’t find her online.

My job adds an interesting dynamic. Reporters are vocational entities. I often bump into people I have written about on days off and it is in my interest to use social media to share work, encourage debate, contact people and source stories in a way I couldn’t really do behind the paper’s official account.Knowing this, I try and act accordingly.

What ‘accordingly’ means is precisely the problem. I’m not racist so I don’t need to quench any desire to slate, for example, the Welsh, (except during the Six Nations, obviously). But I am still a flawed human, prone to bouts of irrationality. Sometimes I’m even drunk in charge of my own Twitter account. Scary to think what I write during one of my infamous Taboo and lemonade binges could then impact my working life come Monday (I was assuming the binge occurred on a weekend - I’m not an animal).

Plus, a joke with a friend can be steeped in context. In the harsh, lurid light of social media that context can easily be lost and a moment of irony is something more sinister to a casual observer.

I accept a responsibility in my job, where it helps to be known and heard.

I imagine the moral quandary is more hazy for people who don’t have that dynamic. Someone who enjoys the clear boundaries set between clocking in and clocking off.

None of this excuses racist idiots and their equally idiotic decision to publish their bilious views online. Personally, I’m happy when I see those who attack race, gender or sexuality get sacked, because I feel like the universe is punishing them for being horrible.

On the other hand, I enjoy being in the kind of society where these people can say what they want.

We have seen recently, in France, some catastrophic alternatives to freedom of expression.

I remain unconvinced about being silenced by some kind of work place rule, but the problem with a common sense policy is you need common sense - and we’re all guilty of lapses of that.