Sometimes you just have to wonder how people have managed to live so long.
It’s amazing to me, the number of people who still seem amazed that calls to/from their mobile phones drop out when they’re on the train. Every time the call drops, they take the phone away from their face, and look at it in amazement, as if it’s never happened to them before. Ever. Not even ten seconds ago.
And even then, they don’t get the concept. They call back, start talking again, and bong, the call drops. You’re in an area of shit reception, you moron – it won’t change in the space of ten seconds. (OK, in fairness, it might – but the odds aren’t good, let’s be honest) As always, it’s not rocket science – but it might as well be.
Even more traumatic, of course, is when they call back, and the phone won’t connect. It has no reception, you moron – look at the little icon with the radio mast, it’s got no fucking bars on it! But that’s a horrific concept straight out of the eighteenth century, isn’t it. No mobile coverage? Where are we, the moon? No. Norfolk. The county that motorways forgot.