Telephone slut

This morning I received a letter in the post from Vodafone, offering me a special deal on a Panasonic GD87. I know I can say to myself all day, every day not to buy this phone. I know that despite the €250 discount, it’s still €329 and that’s a frankly mental amount of money to pay for a phone with a camera. But I just know that exactly because it has a built-in camera along with polyphonic ringtones, GPRS and it’s so damn sexy, it (or something very much like it) will be mine (read all about it here). I just know all this is the prelude to buying my ninth mobile phone, even though for phone no. 8 I crossed the border and bought a €260 Nokia 5210 in Northern Ireland. Nine phones since 1997. I need help.

My name is Joseph and I’m a telephone slut.

j

p.s. in other news, I saw Die Another Day. It’s over-the-top, in fact so over-the-top it’s surfing on a metal panel from the back of a rocket-powered ski car, lifted up by the remains of the vehicle’s parachute, over the top of a wave caused by an iceberg falling into the sea after being fired upon by a satellite that diverted the rays of the sun onto it. And as for his invisible car…….Q must be spinning in his grave. In fact, he probably is; made himself a coffin rotisserie in his last, brilliant feat of engineering.

Halle Berry, good but I’m never that interested in her (although she does have this brilliant reply to the standard Bond villain question “Who sent you?”).

Rosamund Pike; I have never wanted to see an actress’s breasts so much.

Navan Man did fine, as usual, even with his hippie beard.

And John Cleese is the best piece of casting in a Bond film since Grace Jones.

But still, a fucking invisible car. “Aston Martin call it the Vanquish; we call it the Vanish.” In the words of many a Bond villain: “Good night, Mister Bond……..”