One ring to rule them all

In the States, they have a nice euphemism for the personal condition red – that moment when the quotidian madness of the world finally tips the ordinary citizen over the edge, transforming a mild-mannered public servant into an out of control killing machine. They call it “going postal”, tribute to the strange phenomenon whereby it’s not infrequently a mailman who suddenly turns up at his work place, all guns blazing. Later, we learn from a square-jawed anchorman that “Bud Schultz (47) killed eight employees, three customers and himself because he had a gripe with an overseer. (Big smile). And now here’s Tom with the weather, brought to you by Gutbuster Deflatulent Powders”.

Yes, going postal. I like it, I like it a lot – but I think we can do better. My suggestion – going mobile. It’s the name of a song by The Who, for a start, and you’ll find few angrier bands than the noise boys in their prime (and few lamer than the same lot in their dotage, it must be added). But more to the point, going mobile refers to the greatest technological curse of the modern age – the mobile phone.
Of course, we already have mobile phone crime – recent statistics show that some 60% of all urban thefts involve the nicking of mobile phones. And, needless to say, Sam roundly disapproves of such crimes, and would like to see them stamped out. Where he perhaps differs from say, PD policy on the issue, is that Sam would also like to see mobile phones themselves stamped out and, to be honest, wouldn’t entirely object mobile phone users were stamped out with them.

Crazed Loner
Otherwise, Sam fears it will be only a matter of time before Anne Doyle reads out something akin to the following on the Six-One News: “And tonight’s headlines again: ‘Nine people were gunned down in cold blood on the Dart this morning by a man gardai have described as a crazed loner with a twisted fixation about mobile phones. Shocked passengers described how the carriage was awash with blood and bits of brain tissue. (Big smile, wink) And now here’s Tony with the sport, brought to you by Nokia”.
And, of course, the next day the tabloids will all lead with variations on the same headline: Poignant last words of slain passengers: ‘What? I can’t hear you. No. I said I’m ON THE TRAIN’.
Let it be made clear now that, in such circumstances, Sam Snort would lead the appeals for clemency. Indeed, he would go further: he would call for the tables to be turned and for the users of mobile phones to be prosecuted for offences against common decency and the public good. In short, he would agitate for the possession of mobile phones to be criminalised and for the misuse of same to warrant a mandatory custodial sentence.
However, Sam does concede that there is at least one professional situation in which use of the mobile phone is acceptable: that is, if you happen to be Charlie Bird. I mean, the idea of Charlie being deprived of the instant means whereby he could tell us the startling news that that P O’ Neill isn’t a happy (Easter) bunny, is too terrible to contemplate. Take away his mobile and he might start ranting in the streets and we wouldn’t want that. So the great man gets a special exemption.
“But Sam,” I hear you whine, “what if I’m running late for a date with my beloved and don’t want to leave him/her standing all alone outside Bewleys wondering what’s become of me – wouldn’t a little tinkle on the mobile phone be the right thing to do?”
This, certainly, is a common and ostensibly reasonable query and Sam would like you to sit up and pay special close attention to his answer: TRY BEING ON FUCKING TIME IN THE FIRST PLACE YOU RUDE, SELFISH, SELF-ABSORBED ASSHOLE. Making an appointment and keeping it. Crazy idea, eh? Very old-fashioned. But it might just work.

Mafia Hoods
The only other alternative is to put up with the present situation whereby possession of a mobile phone appears to legitimise rudeness of all kinds. Picture it: you’re in the middle of a conversation. Some tinny, brain-numbing melody erupts. The person with whom you were having the conversation stops in mid-sentence and proceeds to…have a conversation with someone else. Now, eliminate the mobile phone from that scenario and how many good smacks about the ear would we be talking? Or try this: people gather in a restaurant and put their mobile phones on the table – double-checking to see that they’re still ON. Now eliminate the mobile phone and replace it with a landline receiver. Unless your fellow diners are mafia hoods out of ‘30s Chicago, more smacks about the head are not only permissible but obligatory.
And so it goes. To repeat: scientists at Snort Towers have proved beyond contradiction that 99 per cent of all mobile phone calls are entirely without point or purpose.
Leaving only Charlie Bird and, well yes, certain business of a sensitive nature which from time to time I need to conduct with my business associates, the Brothers Hernandez. And perhaps there’s the odd call to Herman’s Lapdancing Emporium in there too. And maybe an exchange now and again with Honest John, the bookmaker. And the ‘Born To Be Wild’ ringtone is kinda cute, you must admit.
But note: you will never ever hear Sam Snort say “Hi, I’m on the bus”. Which has nothing whatsoever to do with mobile phones, by the way. It’s just that only losers take the bus.
Your ever-lovin’ Samuel J. Snort Esq