If My Old Phone Was A Man, I’d Be Gay

That’s how much I love my old phone. It had only recently become my “old” phone, and I’m heartbroken.

Let me give the backstory.

Everyone remember when the fancy Motorola Razr first came out? That really slim, flip phone. Yeah. I got that. It cost €300 and was unbelievably shit. It’d have little panic attacks where it just stopped sending or receiving texts. This was fixed only when you turned it off and on again. The problem was that I wasn’t always alert to this and would often think everyone was just being rude to me before it dawned that the phone had fucked up again.

When I closed it too fast, it’d have a fit where the screen would flash all white.

In short, that Razr phone is rubbish. Were it a real razor, I wouldn’t trust it to shave my shit. Eventually, my friends all chipped in for my birthday present to get me vouchers to buy a new phone (that’s how bad that Razr was).

I got a seriously cool Nokia. Again, a flip phone. It had a button on the side that flipped it open. Sliiiiick.

About two weeks after I got it, I was drunk and running in some drunk football, slipped and crushed the phone.

It was fucked.

That was it. Never again am I going to spend big money on a phone, says I.

So then I went and picked up the cheapest phone I could find in the shop.

And that’s when I met ol’ Sony Ericsson.  I’m too lazy to find the exact model online, and I reckon my phone wouldn’t like that anyway. He’s a modest chap and never liked the limelight. Here’s a picture of a similar phone though :

Let’s call him Sonny. Like the character in the Godfather. His favourite film by the way.

I took an instant liking to him as there were some curse words in his predictive text dictionary. Straight away he knew the kinda guy I was. He didn’t judge me as I entered new words into his vocabulary such as “cunt” and “cock”.

There was no fucking up. No shitty little panic attacks. Sonny was just a cool cat, never caving under pressure.

I dropped him countless times. Showed utter disregard for his well-being. Threw him around the place, and never did he complain. Just got right on up, dusted himself down and got on with his job.

The thing is, your phone knows you better than anyone in the world. Your phone sees who you’re talking to, what you’re saying, everything.

I imagine my phone offering my a high-five when I receive a flirty text from a female.

I imagine my phone saying “sorry about this, man” when he has to show me a message that I’m not going to like.

I imagine my phone disapproving when I’m too lazy to text back.

I imagine my phone laughing at some of the funny texts I receive/send.

I imagine my phone cringing and saying “You sure about this, mate?” as I send drunken texts out to half my phone book.

The other week I dropped my phone into a pint of water. I actually exclaimed.

“Noooooooo!”.

Quickly took it out, cradling it like a mother would her injured child.

Took the battery and sim out. I hated seeing him like this. It’s like seeing a loved one on life support.

Dried him off, and gently placed him in a bowl of dry, uncooked rice which is very good for absorbing the water - so I’m told by the internet.

After a while of this, I got the hoover out and hoovered the little fella.

Gave it a go.

It came on.

You fucking little beauty. You sexy little cunt of a phone.

Went out that night and it was working fine. Worked fine for weeks after.

What a soldier.

After all this time, all the blows he took, he had every right to wither and die after I dropped him in water. But no. On he went.

Then last Friday, the day before I went away, the screen started fucking up. It got to a stage where I could switch it off for a good few minutes, then switch it on again. It’d work for a while, then the screen would mess up again. Technically I could have received calls and stuff still. But this wouldn’t work while I’m away. I definitely needed a phone while interrailing.

Now, at first I was angry for the timing of the phone breaking. Literally the day before I left. But then I realised, it was obvious what had happened.

Think of a footballer. His knee feels a bit dodgy and there’s a cup final next week. Does he decide now that he can or can’t play, or wait until closer to the match? He waits of course. Then, on the day before the final, if he still doesn’t feel up to it, he pulls out, for the good of the team. Not worth risking it if it’ll be detrimental to the team’s overall performance.

This is exactly what my phone did. He wanted to last, but when it came to three weeks of interrailing, he decided he was feeling too dodgy and couldn’t hack it anymore. He’d rather me replace him with an Irish phone that I can return if broken, rather than have to buy a phone abroad.

Fair fucking play to you Sonny. Selfless right til the end.

RIP Sonny.

GONE BUT NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN xXx

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