As everyone knows, I'm a total (insert your own expletive)

Who loses a mobile phone? 

    The clear answer is me, I did. My whole miserable world is enclosed within that piece of plastic and I lose it!!!!.

    Actually I didn't lose it; I dropped it. London is empty; as deserted as the proverbial graveyard. I sent my boss a message and three minutes later realised that it was no longer nestling in my pocket. Sprinting back as fast as my miserable legs would allow I returned to the exact place I'd used it last. The street was empty save for two men painting a restaurant next to the one I repair when I'm not doing my security driving biz.

    I asked them politely if they'd seen it. No, was the answer along with a smirk that said, yes, but just try to prove it.

    Thus I was presented with two options.   
    1, Beat the hell out of them to retrieve it and get arrested.
    2, Call the law (even if they would come) and present them with absolutely no proof.

    I opted for a really rude word and jogged to the nearest phone shop where the kind woman within immediately turned off the phone forever.

    The good news is that the next day I bought a new one (Nokia of course) four times more powerful, four times more memory and RAM for a piddling £150

    The fact that it's almost as big as a suitcase is irrelevant, although I'd better buy a case as I've already dropped it three times.