Steve Jobs is at the window again, tapping away whilst I’ve been tapping away all afternoon and all because he wants me to buy a bloody iWant. They’re not like you see in the films these hobbits. In The Lord of the Rings they’re portrayed as the earnest, plump middle classes and in Interview With The Vampire as Lestat. But here as anywhere the bloody things are just knackers and since My Big Fat Hobbit Wedding they all think they’re celebrities. And Jobs the bolder because of it just cannot understand why I don’t have a mobile phone.
He’s the best of the bunch admittedly. Only the other night I had to run out in my carpet slippers (and I don’t own any carpet slippers, because I don’t live in the 1950s) to scare off Bill Gates - who was making a terrible racket going through my bins. They all live down by the river, constantly building the same things and trying to sell them for squirrel meat and wheatgrass smoothies. They fight too, albeit like girls. The Jobs, the Gates and the Tooks. And the language! If I understood a word of it I’d probably be offended.
I work at home, I don’t really need a walky-phone with its stabby-screen but Jobs just won’t stop showing me his iWant. It doesn’t just make calls he says, there’s Angry Birds too. He shows me and I admit he’s got quite an arm on him, but as a missile it’s a very expensive phone. And that it seems is rather the point.
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