DIARY: RANT

What has happened to the good old BT telephone box? The other day I was staggering down Liverpool Street, late for an appointment, with the battery on my mobile dead as a dodo. ’I know,’ I thought. ’I’ll use a phone box - I’d forgotten about those!’

What has happened to the good old BT telephone box? The other day I

was staggering down Liverpool Street, late for an appointment, with the

battery on my mobile dead as a dodo. ’I know,’ I thought. ’I’ll use a

phone box - I’d forgotten about those!’



Indeed, clambering into the plastic box turned out to be a positively

Proustian experience. The faint smell of urine remained as heady as it

did in my youth. And as a skilled ad sales man, I felt obliged to cast

my eye over the ambient media, which promoted such services as ’Busty

Caribbean beauty - new in town’ and, ’Share a bubble bath with soapy

Sophie’.



The digital readout said ’insert coins or cards’. I picked up the

handset and foolishly inserted 50p. It vanished. I waited. Nothing

happened. I pummelled the ’coin return’ button. Nothing happened. I

swore, and moved on to the next phone down the street.



This one boasted an even riper vintage of urine and more ads. ’Erections

demolished - only pounds 30.’ This time I was wary - and the phone only

ate 20 pence of my hard-earned cash.



I won’t even bother telling you what happened in the third phone box,

except to say that by now I was livid, stinking of piss and pounds 1.20

poorer. And of course, there’s nobody to complain to.



Got something to rant about?



Call 020-8267 4702 or e-mail greg.hughes@haynet.com.



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