Ban mobiles in restaurants before I wring someone’s neck!

Exactly when was the last time you had someone’s undivided attention? These days, everyone is distracted. Try talking to a fellow human being and their eyes will constantly flick downwards . . . towards their dreaded mobile phone.

God gave us ten fingers and a highly developed sense of touch so we could savour life to the full. our hands enable us to work, play sport, caress people and things we love, cuddle our babies and stroke friends who are suffering.

With them we can create great art, sew beautiful clothes, arrange flowers and write poetry.

But what do we increasingly prefer to do with them instead? repeatedly stab at a tiny pad hundreds (if not thousands) of times every day to send texts or emails. Soon we won’t need vocal chords or ten fingers, just two digits to text or type our thoughts.

The mobile phone has become an artificial extension of our arms, a silly lump of plastic we are addicted to caressing far more than any lover. The device we value above all else: lose it, and we’re reduced to tears and can barely function — it’s akin to a bereavement.

We carry our phones around like priceless jewels. They have their own little shelves in cars and special pockets in our handbags. Phones now dominate our lives; they stand between us and civilised behaviour, reducing us to boorish zombies.

recently, I wrote that restaurants should ban disruptive small children in the evenings — and you wrote in your thousands to say you agreed. So, even though I admit to over-use of my Blackberry, I’m willing to add another item to the banned list: the smartphone.

nowadays, when this phone-obsessed generation arrive at a cafe or pub, restaurant or dining room, what is the first thing they do? They don’t ask for the menu, they lay down their precious gadget on the table, right next to them, with the screen facing up so they can monitor emails, incoming texts or calls.

even if in silent mode, a phone has become the uninvited guest at every table, noisily signalling it’s presence with a series of bleeps, angry vibrations or chimes, accompanied by flashing lights.

It’s the technological equivalent of a screaming toddler, demanding constant monitoring and attention.

And conventional manners have gone out of the window. These days, the person sitting opposite you is guaranteed to interrupt you by peering down at their precious plastic pal, mumbling: ‘Just ignore me, I must reply to this’ before tapping away for several minutes.

The result? you’re left feeling far less important than what’s happening on their phone.

Back when a telephone was something that lived on a small table in the hall and which was used only for emergencies or weekly chats with far-flung relatives, my mum would decree that when in company, I should pay attention and look interested. I should never speak when others were talking. I should speak only when spoken to.

ha, ha, ha! Those basic rules have vanished for ever as we carry on cyber conversations while eating, during sex, on dates, in the cinema, theatre and while watching TV.

And I’m not the only one growing tired of these ubiquitous devices. restaurant critic Giles Coren recently expressed outrage at discovering that 33 of the 40 diners in the posh establishment where he was eating were tapping away on their phones. This in a place where he estimated a meal would cost around £100 a head. Children, teenagers, mums, dads, tourists and businessmen and women were all fixated on their tiny screens, ignoring the subtle lighting, luxurious surroundings and delicious food a top chef had taken hours to prepare.

It wouldn’t be so bad if all this over-communication resulted in a more productive society. Unsurprisingly, however, Britain’s output has not increased exponentially.

let’s be honest, most stuff we receive and send on phones is utter bilge. reactions to reactions. It’s as if we need constant validation of our existence.

Go to the cinema or the theatre and you are surrounded by faces lit up by the glow from their mobiles.

Worse, people even film what’s happening on stage. every pop singer I know says they are not performing to people any more, just a sea of upheld phones.

The phone has become a barrier to direct, simple conversations and primary experiences. Selfies scream: ‘look at me, I must be important, because I’ve photographed myself.’

of course phones have their uses, but when did they become something we couldn’t live without? Why is a phone more important than a face-to-face chat?

An endless flow of tweets, emails, texts and images is a substitute for real conversation and feedback, interaction that involves letting the other person speak and responding in real time.

Conversations ebb and flow, they can be heated and then cool down. All a text or a tweet allows you to do is react in brief stabs, banner headlines, shorthand comments.

I’ve just come back from Australia, where the mobile doesn’t have the same tight grip on social situations — maybe because it’s quite hard to surf, kayak or swim while texting.

In several shops I was pleased to read signs announcing: ‘We will not serve anyone on a mobile phone.’

Quite right! I’d like our restaurateurs and cafe owners to ban phones. I’d like to see bars insist they are checked into the cloakroom. And they should definitely be banned in all secondary school classrooms.

By allowing teenagers to take their devices into class we are ensuring the next generation will be so dependent on these addictive props they will lack any social skills and be even more unemployable.

how can children learn to hold a meaningful conversation in the real world if all their experiences are via a phone? not that I’m pretending to be any more immune to the lure of the lit screen.

My right thumb has a permanent dull ache. I’d like to claim it’s a result of my aggressive tennis game, but it’s actually from phone abuse and endless pointless texts and emails punched out on a tiny keyboard at all hours of the day and night.

now, I’m trying hard not to touch my phone for a couple of hours at a time, but it’s proving far more difficult than giving up booze. have we all gone mad?