Mobiles (1)

Ok, Mobiles: what do we think of them?

They're a bit like guns: OK, not really a weapon and they 're not designed to kill but in the hands of the idiots that use them . . .
I'm not suggesting using one to club to death your dear old aunt because you've found out what's in her will; or to use it on the neighbour with the tendency to play his barking dog at all hours, usually while he's off down the pub.;or even to use it as a really blunt knife - altho some of them these days are so slim . . .
No, all of the above are obviously preposterous suggestions. Unless you owned one of the early ones, which were so big they could have been used as the bricks they resembled.
I'm not even going to go into a rant about the impact of their all-pervasive use these days: their stupid ring-tones; the loud one-sided conversations in pubs or trains; the somewhat odd feeling you get when you catch sight of someone talking to themselves as the walk down the street until you see the dongle stuck into their head (when was the last time you saw someone actually doing that for real - without a dongle? I do miss those days when the loonies used to be that obvious - apart from those now collected for B.B. - but that's probably another rant on its own)
No, it's just the lack of apparent concern for safety or consideration for others when the non-dulcet tones of their vibrating friend (no, not that sort) have shaken them out of reality.

Here's an example:
The cyclist (yes, cyclist!) that you're following while approaching a roundabout. Needless to say I'm in the car behind, giving her all care and attention as your sposed to do (sorry, did I let slip it was a woman? No, this isn't a rant about woman cyclists or drivers either), especially in Cambridge: a place where, if you so much as look at them wrong, the Peddling Mafia are sure to take out a hit on you; you're woken in the night by dozens of them ringing their tingling little bells, rattling their pedals, blinding you (or trying to) with their tiny blinking LED lights and waving their srawny little fists at you so hard you find their dayglow strips littering your front garden in the morning.

Er . . . anyway, I'm behind her, waiting to find a good time to pass and she starts wobbling - just as we go into the r'bout: is she going straight on or turning left? - I'm assuming it's not right. She's now using her right hand to fish into her bag in the basket at the front - wobbling more because she's doing something with both hands ( it aint steering) which I later realise is to flip the phone open. I close my eyes and take a wide berth and as I pass and look in my rear-view: she's holding a phone up to her ear! First she puts it to left one(!) then she obviously realises that silly so she changes it to her right ear to have her conversation. And she's still peddaling.

I ask you: she's on a bike - how much time would she actually lose if she'd stopped?
Was the call worth getting damaged for?

And, more importantly, was it worth my paint-work?!