The last two weeks have been hard. 

I have had feckless and spotty youths asking me how old I was as I grooved to the Chemical Brothers.  

I have had teenagers asking me if I was a cop as they acted suspiciously while I acted suspiciously and checked out their shirtless, eighteen year old form. 

And the phone!  I have had no fucking phone and have even resorted to going down to the phone booth with a handful of fifty cent coins and phone numbers scribbled on the backs of old envelopes.   Of the indignity!  Oh the shame!

Oh the germs from public handsets.  OK - I know I am turning into Howard Hughes, but I really do insist on the use of latex gloves to stop super-bugs.  And my cunning plan to build a build a Spruse Mikey-Moose over the Easter long weekend is soon to be realised. 

And the smell of people pissing in phone booths.  Not that I mind so much, but I do wish that guy had waited until I finished my call. 

But not now!  No sirree Bob!  For I have just ordered a wondrous thing of beauty; the LG Viewty with five mega-pixels of camera and inbuilt image editor. 

Oh the coolness!  Oh the techno-porn.   Oh how me!