Mixed Lot

I have an iPhone 4 - if it was a woman it would be Megan Fox. If it was a car it would be a Ferrari. It is the most expensive, most advanced, most unbelievable piece of kit on the market. It will do things that you would not believe possible like make me coffee as I update my Facebook status. It will play me a movie whilst hand-feeding me popcorn. It will download my emails and suck me into a paradise of infinite geek-inspired aps. The only drawback about the iPhone 4 is it can't make or receive phone calls...

I used to own a Blackberry until someone stole it (I know who it was. She knows I know. I know she knows I know that she knows). The Blackberry is a stone-age axe compared to the precision-cutting tool that is the iPhone 4 but at least it could make and receive phone calls. The main point about owning a mobile phone is that it can make and receive phone calls. I love my iPhone 4. I want to have sex repeatedly with it. I want to have lots of little iPhone 5's with it and settle down to a life of domestic bliss. But that won't happen because I have decided to pass it through a mangle slowly to ensure it suffers enormous trauma and ultimate death. You see, I love my iPhone 4 but I also hate it. I hate it because it won't make and receive phone calls. Megan Fox may be beautiful but she's probably shit at squeezing the spot on my arse. A Ferrari may be beautiful but you can't fit the kids in the back. The point is that I have to live with the iPhone 4, not just love it, and I just can't do that any more because it won't make and receive phone calls.

Take yesterday as an example - I didn't receive one phone call all day. And I couldn't make any phone calls because the iPhone 4 spent the entire time searching for signal. Forget WiFi or 3G - just one bar of signal would have been good but no, the iPhone 4 just could not achieve even that. And it's not my service provider (Vodafone) either because Plebs with Nokia 3310's on Vodafone were happily chatting away around me. Then, at about 5.30pm M'Lord, the iPhone 4 suddenly announced 14 missed calls. I missed them because the iPhone 4 is like a bodybuilder incapable of maintaining an erection. When you are in business, as I am, 14 missed calls often means missed opportunities. And a missed opportunity means loss of income. Nothing will incur my wrath more than a missed opportunity. I'd sack anyone who fucked-up like that. I'd pass their head through a mangle to ensure enormous trauma and ultimate death. The iPhone 4 has failed it's probationary period just like the succession of beautiful secretaries I had when I actually worked for a living. They were all wonderful and amazing and made me look good - but none of them could type or spell or read and write for that matter. None of them were Betty with whom I eventually settled. 14 missed calls is the final straw (or straws?). I won't actually pass my iPhone 4 through a mangle though because some mug will pay me a lot of money for it on eBay. Then I will buy a cheap shit one trick pony phone from TESCO that will make me look like I live on a settee in a house of multiple occupation. It will make me look like a man who buys his shoes from Poundland. It will give the impression that I know nothing about the wonders of technology. But it will make and receive phone calls and that's all I really need.