Hw hrd cn it B?

Someone once said, “Life's a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get” Whoever said it was a fool. A 24 carat jackass. A buffoon. Because as you get older and you’re part of the working class, I’ll tell you what you get. Cacked on, that’s what. Not content with cacking on you, they do it from a great height. They’re quite open about it. Your position in life is under them. You are there to be cacked on.

Perhaps it’s me? I’ve almost reached a half century and… God that sounds bad. A half century. That’s, whisper it, fifty years. FIFTY YEARS! Buggeration!! And that deserves a double exclamation mark. I’m older than my dad was when he told me off for listening to music “too loudly”. I’ve lived longer than Gordon Ramsay for goodness sake and look how gnarled he is. I’m older than the leader of the opposition/PM in waiting! And have you noticed that the policemen are looking younger these days?

No, I’m not having that. I still think The Who had it right when they sang “I hope I die before I get old.” Put the age thing out of your head Rob. I work with young people. They keep my outlook young. I’m in the loop regarding what’s hip and what’s not. Believe me, if you utter some “old man’s” garbage in front of teenagers, they’ll let you know soon enough.

I’m pretty well up with technology too. I can find my way round the innards of my PC in no time. I’ve streamed tunes over the net. I’m a geek! So why is it that some smart assed kid from a phone shop can upset me so? No, I take that back, she merely contributed towards the cacking from on high that I received today. She, if you like, positioned the defecator (or is it defacatee?)above my head.

Look, last week, rushing about as is far too normal in this hectic world, I stormed home and quickly changed from my work trousers. Got to get them in the wash at night time, it’s cheaper electric. It was only an hour later that I found that I’d also washed my mobile phone. The poor thing gurgled a bit but even after mouth to mouth it refused to jump back into life. It had died. I’d even given it a burial at sea with full honours. I’ll be honest here. I don’t even like mobile phones. Intrusive little shits they are. If someone wants you so badly, they’ll get hold of you. But, damn and blast it, they do come in handy. I tried doing without over Christmas. The silence was deafening. The trill “toodley doot de doo” of an incoming text message never sounded. I never thought I’d miss reading “mry xmas m8” or even asking me “hw r u m8, u ok?” I never have any idea what they mean but they are quite comforting to know that some illiterate person somewhere cares for your wellbeing.

So today, I’d decided. I was going to buy a new mobile phone. That’s a work of art in itself. But strolling through a well known Rochdale supermarket I spotted one for the right price. Basic as they come. Small enough not to get in the way and on the same network as before. What’s more, the price included £10 of credit! Result.

Hopes high, I marched into the Orange shop in town. I wanted them to transfer my existing credit onto the new sim card and apply the new credit. Can it be that difficult? Oh damn yes, of course it can! Believe it or not, the “Orange” sales representative couldn’t touch my “Orange” phone because I’d bought my “Orange” phone at another store. No matter that the “Orange” phone is locked to their network. No matter that my old sim card was supplied by “Orange” Aaaaaaaaargh!


No matter, I’m a geek, remember? I’ll do it myself. One hour later and the phone is up and running. All I need to do now is get the £10 voucher validated and added to my account. A quick look on the net and it all comes to an abrupt halt. I have to be registered to use the “Orange” site. No matter, I’ll phone them up! Twenty minutes and I’m still being told that it’s a busy time and they really value my call. Ok…. Take a deep breath. Try another sequence of key presses. Bingo! I’m through to some lady in Delhi. For a one off fee of 25p. Aaaaaargh!

Ok, let’s get through this. I explain to the lady that I have a voucher included as part of a package with my new mobile phone. I need to add the voucher to my account on this phone, with my old sim card. “Not a problem”, she assures me. “Just read the voucher number out and bob’s yer uncle” ok, I made the last bit up. You’ll not believe this. Eleven numbers in the code. “Orange” codes have to be twelve numbers. “You need to take it all back to the supermarket and tell them the code doesn’t work” Aaaaaargh!

So here I sit on New Years eve, a bottle of Stella by the side of me, a bottle of wine warming nicer for later. Goodbye 2009. Hello 2010.

A resolution? Yeah, the first person that texts me “Hppy nw yr m8!” is gonna get “pss off” right back at ‘em!