This time it's personal

After five years, my old mobile phone is defunct and I've replaced it. Not, you might think, earth-shatteringly interesting or notable even in the life described to you so lovingly day-by-day. 

However, it's a big thing for me. At last, I can have my revenge. I'm tormented on the street, on trains and on buses by selfish, arrogant, noise-polluting gits who play music through those rubbish little speakers on their mobiles. It's a form of bullying, an announcement that their pleasure is more important than the comfort of the many people around them. When I'm in charge, there will be a special camp for them, with Penderecki's Threnody piped into the cells 24 hours a day.

In the meantime, my new phone will suffice. It's a cheap, boring phone, but it has a radio, a speaker and a 'record radio' function. I shall abuse these features mightily. I intend to record Veg Talk, You and Yours, Moneybox or even a specially bad episode of The Archers, one of the ones with Linda Snell or Jack Woolley in, and use them as weapons of retaliation. The next time some selfish bastard poisons the air with Akon, or Pussycat Dolls or some godforsaken emo, I shall blast them with the very worst of Radio 4 until they go away. Or stab me.