My nerves were already shot to pieces when my phone rang and a faint little voice said, ‘Hallo, this is Vodafone, we’re just ringing to let you know we’ve got some offers for you.’
I was about to hang up when I remembered, in some sunken recess of the shrivelled left-hand side of my brain, that my phone contract is up for renewal soon and if I didn’t speak to the little voice I might soon have to visit the Vodafone shop (a direct replica of the underworld and God’s way of showing us what hell will be like if we don’t behave) and negotiate a deal involving unlimited gigabytes of data, and a new handset with inbuilt cinema, virtual popcorn-making facilities and other technology that will force me to live my entire life by endlessly touching the screen of my mobile phone.
So I said, ‘Oh yes, when is my contract up?’
Big mistake.
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