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Mike, I’ve been dropping hints about wanting one of those telephone handsets near birthday and Christmas times for a couple of years now, and I just don’t think anyone took me seriously. But fuck it, I’m going to buy one for myself.
See, I still think that mobile phones are, ergonomically speaking, rubbish. I kinda thought that by now, Jonathan Ive or someone would have reimagined the mobile phone – something that felt nice in the hand, fit the face and had a bit of that ‘I want to touch it’ je ne sais quoi. The fact that they’re still little grey boxes seems a little thoughtless, and considering their preeminence as the gadget sine qua non, I’m surprised that it has yet to undergo any real reinvention.
I know lots of people, like Boboss, who find various aspects of the mobile phone revolution spleen bustingly irritating. But, while I have sympathy for them, I can’t relate to it at all. God, I don’t really care that much if a phone goes off in a cinema. And I’m not a particularly easy going sort. Personally, I find someone laughing at something I don’t find funny a million times more annoying. I think it must be like tongue rolling – I just don’t have the gene. In fact, I quite like manifestations of a more plugged-in society. You could answer your phone in the middle of a conversation with me, and I really won’t give a shit.
I like Bed Head’s point about the bleats of lambs (and love the idea of a ‘family whistle’) as a metaphor for the social benefits of individualising these things. My instinct has always been that I prefer to hear a personalised ring tone, and that, I think, explains it to me. I’m very happy to see the demise of the days when the ring of one phone in a pub launched an obligatory round of the patting your pockets dance. |
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