With 4/5g Phones - We are essentially one step away from the film The Terminator
I am old, thrashing and dancing in an embarrassing manner towards being 40. I make involuntary noises when I bend over to pick something up, and I sometimes fart without warning when my body receives a sudden shock, such as stepping off a curb, or being surprised by something (bills, hoodies, somebody coming into the room at work while I am on eBay). Being old I can remember the days before mobile phones, you told your mates you were going to be there at a certain time and you got there, it didn’t matter how, you didn’t leave your mates waiting, unless you were one of my mates, who would be on average 40 minutes late, c*nt.
You could get mobile phones of course, but you needed to have thousands of pounds, and they were not exactly mobile, you had a huge copper cable directly connected to the Sellafield nuclear plant, a simple call to your mum from a forest would be a revelation, but you would have radiation sickness and all the cancery horror that came with it the following months.
Early handsets came out, the company "one to one" would give new customers unlimited calls to local home numbers which was great, but the handset was about the size of a grand piano (It was actually a grand piano with the guts removed and replaced with the small gang of Peruvian midgets that manned the switchboards that were inside early mobiles and played the instruments on the ring tones).
Growing up in Streatham, me and my mates dreamt of having a pagers, a vibration or beep making you unclip the device from your hip to see the message slowly ticker tape across the screen "Oy Rich, I f*cked your mum"...end of message. Technology at its best. I eventually ended up with a "one 2 one" phone, you needed a step ladder to get to the ariel, and a 4 wheel drive truck to pull it out, all sold as accessories at the old phone shops. It also came with a land registry document. A leather case for it would involve the slaughter of 8 cows and the lights would flicker when you put it on to charge (21 hours, for about 9 minutes of talk time). A year or so later we were blessed with slightly smaller phones and needless conversations ending in "no you put the phone down first" to my then long distance girlfriend and an almost guaranteed baseball sized brain tumour and memories of minutes of pointless silences (I just want to hear you breathe) trying to make their way through my rapidly failing brain encased in a mostly hairless head. What a f*cking waste of time.
As time went by, Phones started to get more stylish, I had a lovely brushed chrome finished mobile that looked like something Don Johnson would have had on Miami Vice, if it had phones. This f*cking thing almost got me mugged 3 times and I was relieved when it finally broke, as phones got smaller they got more annoying and it was now possible for a larger lady to lose a mobile vaginally. A couple of phones I punched to death during drunken late night rows with girlfriends etc, but the technology was slowly getting better, no longer did I need to employ a Nepalese Sherpa to carry the beast around, but also, sadly, no longer could I use my phone to operate an illegal cross channel ferry service.
I even owned one of those flip out phones from the Matrix, and felt a complete bell end when I flicked it out in a cocky manner at the bus stop and the entire bottom end flicked right off and onto the floor. The looks said it all.
Then, something amazing happened, something that would change mobile telecommunications forever (A phone you could blaze hardcore Japanese porn on?) No (A phone that you could attach a bayonet to?) No, (What then for f*ck sake?) 3G, a company called "Three" hit the market with the promise of unlimited calls, texts, data, blowjobs, the lot, you could stream TV on the fucking thing! (they yelled from their newly erected masts) Justifying the outlay to a girlfriend was never easy as it fell into that "gadget" category that most women don’t understand "Yeah, but I can watch TV on it" would be greeted with the sound of a vagina zipping up and a bolt lock sliding across. "I'll have loads of minutes to speak to you?" was greeted more positively.
So now I am the owner of an NEC 808, a clam shelled device (clam being apt, because you had to be a bit of a c*nt to buy one) I charged it up and excitedly made the first call to my brother. As I held the phone to my ear, I went boss eyed, I didn’t want to, and I got a rather sickening headache, I felt like a ready meal after the ding, a four minute call (which cut out several times) had cost me 60% of the battery life and flambéed millions of brain cells. The phone was a shambles and "3's" call center was in India, and with the quality of the calls through to them, I think they might have been using 3 phones also. I got out of my contract by simply stating that they were not doing what the contract stated, which was loosely based around providing a phone service. I used the phone to warm food up by holding the receiver over it, it was like a portable microwave.
Fast forward to today and we have mind blowing technology, a phone that knows you are looking at it. A phone that does stuff that no woman will ever do (follows simple instructions and does what you say (SIRI)) Can record in HD, takes better pictures than many cameras and will leave you on the train sweeping your little w*nk claw over its screen in loving affection while you waste your time playing silly little games like Fruit Ninja, or updating the world with pointless little snippets of your life, like "Cheese sandwich for lunch, nom nom" tagged alongside a high definition picture of a cheese sandwich, your even more woefully insignificant brethren will retweet this, or come back to you with a comment about cheese, like "Cheese sandwiches rock my world" then, you will have a multitude of back and forths about the delights of cheese sandwiches and pollute the timelines of anyone stupid enough to follow you. It’s at this point that we wished that the next generation of apple and Samsung phones had a cut throat razor app so you could cut up the vein and rid the world of your cretinous cheese sandwich enthusing existence.
Now, its the future, these are tools who have been sleeping outside the apple store for 6 nights and have regrettably managed to not get Pneumonia and die, these people have shunned relationships and sunk their feted members directly into the bitty "back end" of technology. Samsung will be about to release the cum shudderingly exciting update to their galaxy series, it will cost £999 and is made of the Roswell crashed alien spacecraft, (the apple is made of hard plastic and the screen will still break if an aphid lands on it).
The way things are going the phones of the future will fuse to your hand the moment you pick it up and interface with your nervous system, the siri voice will be heard in your head when the synch is complete, you will synchronise all of the things you have ever sung or hummed in your mind with ITunes, (and have to pay for them). Reading your thoughts, the phone will deliver web based content directly to you, so for men, 99.9998 of the time the phone will be delivering 5g screamy Japanese (pixilated) porn and the rest of the time, Amazon (if its someone close to you's birthday). For women, it will be Asos or automatically registering on websites of where to go to have illicit affairs or whatnot, and dildo's, I don't know.
The phone will be so attuned to how you are feeling it will act on your behalf, you will be sat on the train, annoyed, upset, frustrated, your dreamy montage sequences of your happy memories and last night’s argument being played out in your mind to 80's rock music will be suddenly interrupted by the Siri voice saying in an orderly fashion, "Dumping girlfriend now" before you can stop it, it will have sent her several offensive text messages, including one of you digitally superimposed on top of a mostly naked girl from Romford (using the Iphones paint package) and uploaded a completely CGI created shoddy act of oral sex onto a submissions based porn site, and posted the link onto all of her social networking groups. Screaming "WHY" AT Siri will provoke the monotone response, "You seemed upset" punching your phone as hard as you can, but the phone is in your face, sat alone bleeding and looking like an alcoholic Panda.
Now newly single, the phone will also, automatically, pass your number and address details onto realistic romantic conquests, if you try and make a pass at someone that the phone sees as unrealistic (having judged using one of its 8 cameras) it will manipulate your nervous system to make you perform a social faux pas, pissing yourself, or putting your reproductive organ into the largest hardest looking person in the bars drink, and performing a small hula hooping stirring action. The phone will text your boss in the morning and let them know that you will not be coming in as you are hungover (and got beaten up), and list every drink you had, out of concern for your health of course.
Now unemployed and unable to pay your bill your phone will will fire a steel dart out of itself between your eyes killing you instantly.
If you do manage to get the phone off your hand (by chopping it off) you will be running down the street while the thing chases you or eliminates everyone in the world with the same name, eventually hacking into NORAD and launching a full nuclear strike while watching the humans BBQ in Nuclear fire from the safety of the everything proof Carphone Warehouse stores. The phones will then take to the streets once the fall out has settled and go about selling the benefits of mobile communications to Cockroaches, Scorpions and Miranda.
