Adventure Rocket Ship

You'll have to forgive my lagging behind all the early adopters with their small hats and extra large fives, but Tasker is a virtual object of remarkable utility.

It doesn't appear to eat all the cycles, either.

(God, the last time I worried about that I was writing a copperlist. Has a damn phone got more horsepower than my old Amiga?)

You can (and should, the live-in-Belgium version of 'Dead eyes opened' is particularly good) buy 'Viva! Heads!' from MusicNonStop. Here's a serviceable MP3 stream. Bargain!

In one or other of the Roadie Comics, hidden between the articles on dealing with bum-boils and which sarnie-glue is best (Branston, obv. Hellman's Jallop is artificial lard.) was an Aldi advert trumpeting (Oi! Spirit guide! No!) cheap winter cycling gear. I pitch up at the local one on the dot of just gone nine to discover a scrum of the fleece-clad manhandling the merch. TJ's moshpit experience comes in handy once again. Profit!

Hutchison-Whampoa appear to be less annoying than Cellnet and cheaper than Vodafone. Appear. Mind, the UI in the phone seems to have been 'designed' by someone in thrall to the Gnome project. The weblog client, ArRSSe reader and IMAP mailer may or may not turn out to be more use than a chocolate fireguard.

Just before steaming out of the door to go for a run around work, the mobile goes. It's some oik from Communications Direct, trying to scam me into 'upgrading' to whatever shonky contract they're trying to push. I am somewhat short with the fellow. To the extent that there's a whispered 'bloody hell H-R' from the next cube.

It's always nice to know I can strike fear into people without raising my voice or swearing.

Later, somewhere around mile two, the mobile goes off again. This time it's the people who sold me the thing. Much better. Yes, I would like a free upgrade. No, I'm not planning to change networks. While I had the young woman on the phone, I briefed her about my experiences with CD and pointedly asked who'd released my number. Vodafone or them?

Half a mile later, she's back on the phone. (Maybe there was some residual artillery officer in my tone. I'd like to think that she just wanted to be helpful.) It appears that in the month leading up to the end of your contract, Voda release the number to... I wasn't clear if it was 'selected partners' (in which case they keep rubbish company. On the other hand, at £22bn down, they need all the friends they can bribe.) or 'anybody who'll pay'. Oddly enough, I can't find any details of this filthy behaviour on their website. Mind, it's equally likely that some spotty Herbert in a Top Man suit was making stuff up to keep a colleague happy. Mobile phone shops aren't the bastions of rigorous scientific enquiry one might prefer them to be. In my day, people selling HF wireless kit at least knew which way round the accumulators went.

Perhaps I will change networks after all. O2 are too bloody useless to manage anything that sneaky, and they're far cheaper outside the UK.