2002-05-27 - 6:21 p.m.

Much as I wouldn�t usually be averse to a demanding female voice waking me at 4am, last night a deluded pensioner was convinced that I was conducting some kind of phone-based terrorism campaign against her at odd hours of the morning. The phone is usually right next to my bed, ending each day as I do with a vigorous session on Madame Fifi�s House of Pain Hotline (hahaha. Just kidding. Ahem). A strange wake-up call always propels a confusing litany of possibilities through my head as I dozily try to kick start those basic motor functions, ranging from, say, sudden death of a parent to, oh, I don�t know, Jason Lee having broken down outside my house and needing an emergency place to bunk up. Imagine, then, my disappointment that it�s just some deranged old scrote with faulty caller ID. Of course, it takes some time for this information to trickle through as she opens, somewhat unfairly, with �I�m getting very cross with you!� (surely not Madame Fifi calling me back?!) I manage to make a noise that apparently manages to convey my chronic incomprehension, and she kindly elaborates, that she�s �sick of me calling her at all hours of the day and night�, and furthermore has �a neighbour�, the reason for the notification of whose existence remains unclear for the course of the episode.

Though I�d usually be tempted to keep her on the line, just to test her wittering endurance, I�m far too tired and hang up, figuring it�s a simple case of her gnarled, arthritic fingers hitting the wrong number eight consecutive times. But it�s no simple fluke of remedial physical disability. She CALLS BACK! The always-suspect neighbour threat has now been withdrawn, and if I don�t stop calling her THIS time, she�s going to call the police and how can I do such a thing and don�t I know how late it is? Strangely I�m really never MORE aware of how late it is than when I�m sharing an abusive phone call hosted by a doddery aggressor who thinks I have nothing better to do than waste my phone bill on her. As kindly as I can, I deny all allegations, ask her to check her incoming call register, and take the phone off the hook so as not to interrupt my being stone cold awake for the duration of the early hours of the morning.

I propose you should have your telephone removed by an armed government agency as soon as you hit 55. Hell, it would stop my parents� constant enquiries into my employment situation.

In �I Still Have No Motherfucking Job� news, I still have no motherfucking job.