I was watching Hustle And Flow, when a nagging feeling interrupted my enjoyment, so I stopped the film, and had a look for my telephone. I couldn't find it, so I rang the number from the house phone. I coudn't hear the ring, and there was no answer. Weak, I thought.
I wondered when I'd last seen it, which was just before the ping pong party (If you wanted to know what 20-something white people do on Saturday evenings in London these days, apparently is is have ping-pong tournaments). I suspected that I might somehow have lost it there, so I rang the number for a while. Eventually, someone answered.
The voice was foreign sounding - European, or something. Italian. Czech. I don;t know. I'm crtap with accents.
"What?" I said. "Who is this?"
"See Leh Oh," said the voice.
"Excuse me?" I said
The voice sounded pleased with itself.
"Oh," said. "You seem to have my phone. Where did you find it?"
The voice laughed.
"My phone now," it said. Then the line went dead.
"Shit," I said.
I tried ringing it back a whole bunch of times, but it kept just going to answer phone (I have a really annoying answerphone message right now), so I called T Mobile instead and got them to cancel the sim card.
"If you ring back tomorrow after seven, we can get you a new sim card ordered, and we can block the phone", said the woman from T Mobile.
"Why can't you do any of that now?" I asked.
"If you ring back tomorrow after seven we can do it for you sir," she said.
"Some rotten swine has my telephone," I said. "I have spoken with him. Why can't you use one of your satellites to pinpoint his location and blow the phone up or something? What if I said he was a terrorist?"
"No sir," said the woman, with some boredom. "If you ring back after seven tomorrow we can block the phone and order you a new sim card sir."
"Right," I said.
"Is there anything else I can do for you today sir?" asked the woman.
"You have done enough," I muttered grimly, hung up, and paced about a little, considering the implications of this latest mishap. The swine with my phone could have sent all manner of horrible text messages to people by now. He could have rang my mother and tried to frighten her. He could have read all my text messages. The gross perv. I bet he gets cancer. What a cock end.
I looked out my window. On the ground opposite, Trampy hopped from side side in his doorway, sucking on a cigarette and waving at passers by for money. Asshole, I thought.