Curse me, curse the modern world; I was entitled to a new mobile phone, so I damn well went and got it.
It takes pictures. It sends pictures. It plays games and curious entertainments of swirly coloured blobs. It has an organiser (ah, another organiser in my life, completely separate from all of the other calendars I have; perfect). If I had the patience, it could probably write and post this for me. It is polyphonic.
It is polyphonic.
This could mean only one thing. As I took it home on the train I had to discreetly struggle to ensure that, before I received a call on it, I had to manage to select, among the pop ditties, snatches of mood music, flamboyant arpeggios and berzerk cartoon breakdowns, the one ring tone that doesn’t make me feel like a complete merchant banker.
Thankfully, there was one, and I suspect you’ll be hearing a lot more of it in corridors in restaurants in the coming months. It’s called ‘Old Phone’, and it sounds like exactly that; an old-fashioned bell phone.
Now, the more devious option available, I’ve discovered, is to record your own sound on the phone, and use that as the ring tone. The possibilities are, I fear, endless.
My two ideas at the moment are:
- A recording of someone saying “Your phone is ringing”, set to repeat ever louder as it goes on
- A particularly disturbing few seconds of Tuvan throat-singing
Each has its shady merits, particularly in terms of causing existential discomfort to men in suits. I’m open to further suggestions, otherwise I’ll let you know.