Smug about my rock-solid mo­bile

Kentish Express Ashford & District - - Opinion - by Steve Con­sta­ble

THEY laugh at my mo­bile phone. They re­gard it as some­thing out of a Dom Joly sketch, a huge, clunk­ing relic of the mo­bile Stone Age, on which you can do noth­ing but call and text. WAP? What’s that? MP3? Well, I have a Black Eyed Peas ring­tone, any­way. Just a beepy, squeaky, one, not the real track, ob­vi­ously. Where Is The Love? Nowhere, not for my much-knocked Nokia. Yet, at the mo­ment, I’m feel­ing as smug as the ban­knotes-un­der-the-bed bri­gade, as sup­pos­edly su­pe­rior tech­nol­ogy, like the fi­nan­cial sys­tem, melts down quicker than a po­lar ice­cap. It started with my friend the arty woman, who fi­nally de­cided to em­brace broad­band, and thought­lessly signed up with BT. More than a week af­ter ‘con­nec­tion’, in­nu­mer­able phone calls, at least three tech­ni­cians and, by the sound of it, a com­plete re­build of the tele­phone ex­change, she’s back on­line, and to cel­e­brate I emailed her a photo of Alexan­der Arm­strong to swoon over (I know, but she thinks he’s gor­geous). Mean­while, how­ever, her own mo­bile phone, sev­eral gen­er­a­tions ahead of mine, went on the blink, and she bought a new, snappy, slidey one, with all the WAPs and MPs you could imag­ine, only to get stuck on pre­dic­tive text which in­sisted on turn­ing plumber into slum­ber, and hope­lessly fail­ing to down­load a pic­ture of her nephew which, her sis­ter as­sured her, would have been adorable if only she could have seen it. Then our Alex and I tried to get to Wem­b­ley for the Amer­i­can foot­ball, and the ticket ma­chine at the Ele­phant and Cas­tle tube ran out af­ter print­ing us only one, and it took two peo­ple 15 min­utes to is­sue an­other, and then there were sig­nalling faults on both the Bak­er­loo and Metropoli­tan lines ... Come to think of it, maybe it is my mo­bile phone, emit­ting danger­ous, ob­so­lete ra­di­a­tion, in­ter­fer­ing with the mod­ern world, the com­mu­ni­ca­tions equiv­a­lent of a coal-fired power sta­tion, even a likely tar­get for a Green­peace protest camp. They’d bet­ter not send the Rain­bow War­rior up my way, how­ever. The way things are go­ing around me at the mo­ment, it would prob­a­bly sink.

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