An open letter to the wankers who stole my phone
An open letter to the Wankers who stole my mobile phone
Dear Wankers who stole my mobile phone,
I never caught your names in our briefest of meetings- we didn’t get that close in our brief conversation, so I guess ‘wankers’ will have to do. Luckily it sort of fits you very well – cunts, twats and scumbags would also be perfect as well but for the purposes of this letter we will stick with wankers.
So there I was minding my own business sat in the Cornerhouse café in Manchester city centre.
It’s sort of my ad hoc occasional city centre office. I have all my meetings in there and sit around writing and doing my stuff in the place.
I had just made a bunch of calls and put my phone on the arm of the settee next to my hand when the pair of you shuffled up and asked me where Piccadilly station was.
One of you, ‘little wanker’ was about 18 and looked very naïve whilst your mate was older- about 30 with a beard and looked a bit shifty. I thought you were out of towners, you looked a bit lost and I was all too happy to help you out. I should have told you to fuck off in the modern way but I didn’t and I paid the price.
You didn’t look like thieves but there was something not quite right about you but in the course of the 15-second conversation there was not enough time for mother instinct to bubble up to the surface and warn me about you.
I couldn’t quite catch what you said as you were mumbling with strange accents and I was a bit surprised when you pushed out sheets of paper with weird writing on them towards me- a ruse to hide your shifty, shit encrusted fingers sliding my phone into your sweat encrusted pockets without me seeing.
You must have taken my phone when it was a centimetre from my hand. Our chance meeting was short, very short and when I pointed you in the direction of the station you were gone and so was my phone as you shuffled off pretty quickly.
Five minted later it suddenly occurred to me that my phone had gone. You had already switched the phone off so the fabled iphone tracking that Apple are so proud of was already totally useless- nice idea Apple but practically useless these days.
Hey Apple while are here, how about coming up with an explosive device so I can blow my phone up when it’s in the filthy, shit encrusted fingers of the thieving swine?
So Wankers, our friendship was so brief so I ran out the front of the Cornerhouse looking for you. By then I had no intention of politely asking for my phone back, we all know that you would have done the spineless denying thing and to be honest I have little time for those kind of whining conversations. The conversation would have been a bit more robust and direct and my phone would either have been returned or £500 worth of whatever the pair of you had on you would have been handed over to me as comepnesation.
Wankers, you betrayed my trust and you were dishonest as well as slimy and slippery and I don’t like that kind of stuff. Even in the 21st century there has to be some sort of honour.
We have your ugly faces all over CCTV and someone gave me the registration and make of your getaway car- at this point we thought that we would have you bang to rights as they used to say in the Sweeney but we forgot that the local police are either overworked or just not that interested in robbery even if this current trick had been going on for months in the cafes on Manchester. All the facts were duly reported to the Sherlocks as well as the fact that this gang have been very busy in the last few weeks in city centre Manchester but nothing has happened yet- The only time the police got excited was when I told them I was looking for you as well and they warned me not to. That’s ‘their job’ apparently.
The next heart sinking phone call was made to my mobile phone company, O2, to get my phone switched off. The two hour phone calls to O2 at 5p a minute must be good for their struggling family business but not for my already battered wallet. O2 have it all worked out- that tactic of endlessly asking your name and address and not quite spelling it right and getting my mobile number wrong so I had to tell them again and again was paying big dividends.
After keeping me on hold for 40 minutes the phone was actually cut off and I had to go through he whole process again.
Which brings me back to my new friends, yes, you- Wankers, I’m not sure who I despise the most- you, the initial greasy swine who lifted the phone or the crooks who rent the phone to me- it’s all 21st century crime by stealth- either by street gangs or corporate gangs and we are the victims of it every day.
O2 made me feel dirty and like a criminal- weird as I could swear I was the one who had my phone nicked and it’s going to cost me fortune to get my phone back up to speed.
I know my phone will be melted down now and the minerals from the insides sold on the black market for probably a £100 for you wankers to spend on grubby porn or another pair of shitty looking trainers.
Wankers, I know you are busy guys and have little time to read my letter- you have to get back down Oxford road in Manchester with your varying tricks- like pushing a bag of drugs into people’s faces whilst someone pickpockets the person or doing a charity survey in cafes with clipboards whilst lifting a phone but don’t forget that every day more and more of us now who you are and we are ready for you…
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