Mobile Fucking Phones
I went to London last week to meet a film company (more of which soon … hopefully). On the train on the way home I was sitting at a table seat on my own when a very nice young lady asked if she could sit there. Naturally I nodded and smiled, and she sat down, and I commenced reading Volume 6 of PREACHER (‘Not enough gun!’).
Then she took out her mobile phone. Called her mother. Talked about a funeral. Called her boyfriend. Complained about how much her mother keeps her chatting on the phone.
The journey between Paddington and Newport is about 100 minutes. She started talking 2 minutes after leaving Paddington and she was still talking when she left the train at Newport. I now know about her dead Aunt, her boyfriend’s eating habits, the new car they’re choosing, why she hates her jobs and how annoying tunnels are because they cut off the phone signal.
How unreasonable of them.
A few days later I went to see Audioslave in concert. It was a stunning gig, but that’s by the by. Beforehand my wife Tracey and I stopped off for a Mexican and a couple of beers. It’s a trendy Mexican restaurant, and there was a hen night at the adjoining table. Eight nice young ladies, and four of them – including the bride to be – spent virtually the whole time we were there texting people on their phones. Ignoring their friends. Letting their meals go cold.
On the way to the gig someone walked into me in the street because they were busy texting someone instead of watching where the hell they were going.
In the Audioslave gig, as they came on to Your Time Has Come, a guy in front of me was texting his girlfriend about problem they were having with their relationship (it was one of those illuminated screens, I could see).
Is it just me?
Is it?
Or should everyone who uses a mobile phone in public be PUT UP AGAINST A FUCKING WALL AND SHOT?!?!?!?
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