My partner has a phone. It looks like a spaceship. I have a phone that looks like a loofah. The difference between these ostensibly similar devices is that my phone does not work well in the bath either as a backscrubber or an underwater communication device; whereas I can’t make my partner’s do anything at all even standing next to EE’s gargantuan mast.
That’s because I’ve never worked out how to switch it on. By the same token I’ve never figured out how to switch it off either. She says it will make movies, take pictures, recite Shakespeare, jump up and down to the rhythm of the latest 007 Theme, act as a life raft in extreme circumstances. But I can’t ring anybody on it. Meanwhile, back at my loofah-phone, I can’t ring anybody on that either. I am told by nauseating folks at Vodaphone that it’s because I don’t put money in it. I bought it for ten quid twenty years ago; what more do they want?
I drool after those phones in the black and white ‘B’ films that people whir around with a middle finger, talk into a black stick-looking trumpet thing, and say something like “Give me Whitehall 1212, please operator”. Now, I have to key in a 54 digit, digitally secured code (that turns out not to be secure because some flea bitten company like Norton or Avast or somebody, wants to charge me a mortgage to ensure that I am secure) and after doing that I find I’ve straightened out the National Debt while waiting a day and a half in a queue for somebody from the phone company to come back off holiday to tell me how much I owe them.
So I now employ a completely revolutionary device called a ‘Hermit-o-phone’. By using this I don’t have to ring anybody at all. The first Hermit-o-phone I had I came across accidentally. I picked a banana up in Tesco and, lo and behold….it didn’t ring! This is the phone for me, thinks I. There was also, I soon found, a bonus. I couldn’t ring anybody else, either. Another big advantage is that nobody has sent me a bill. For anything. I’ve tried this with various ‘apps’. A stick, a dog biscuit, a JCB tyre; they don’t ring you on them either.
So I’m stretched out on my blow-up mattress watching the rain outside my shed, banana on the one hand, tea and macaroon on the other.
I might have a peaceful conversation by macaroon, shortly. You’re never alone with a macaroon……..