There’s something in the vodka

Hello?..What the..WAAAAHH!!

Eyes blink grudgingly open to face the dawn of a new year  back in Scotland carrying with them strain brought on by one hangover from Hell. Seated upright and fully clothed I wonder if I’ve slept hours or minutes.

Memories of a party last-night threaten to invade my moment’s peace, but I refuse to contemplate problems I’ve caused or what consequence might lay ahead. I feel rough and for now that’s all I can handle.

Lifting my phone to check this ungodly hour and send best wishes to friends for the New Year I feel thrown with alarm that my mobile has somehow actually transformed over- night leaving me unable to unlock or do anything. Technology not being of particular interest to me and never a point of strength I find this a tad annoying to say the least as it’s only taken me the best part of seven fucking years to learn how to use this thing and now progress has saw fit for a complete change in what I want in a phone.


Franticly I fumble, curse and try my best not to launch it across the room. Why has this happened? I didn’t want my phone updated, I was more than happy with the way it was. It had become part of me and was all I ever needed or wanted in communication software.

Who decided I need some ultra-modern wank piece of shit phone? Some jumped up Google the world, arty farty plastic pish stain thin as paper, fragile as the idea my phone would stay the same as when I bought the fucking thing. Who are you to tell me when I need something different? Who are you to have the nerve to go ahead and make those changes without my consent? Who are you?

Really pissed with the world now I feel the phone crack in the grasp of my hand as frustration sets in. Deep breaths and with my last shred of patience I give one last try before I bite this thing in half only to have it snatched from me by one bleary eyed friend demanding his phone back. “Shit, this was your phone? I think someone’s broken it”!

Eventually my mobile would turn up..In my pocket unchanged, not transformed and ready for business as usual.

One week later..

Why is it I’d rather be bitten on the ass (again) by a lage dog than get nipped by this bad girl?!

My phone has died and I have to buy one ultra-modern, pish pot, arty farty plastic piece of..











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