(a worse crime than that of this prick)
I see you there. Actually, no, I hear you there. In the library. Making a noise. No, not even that, that’s not the issue; people make noises in libraries all the time, and it’s hilarious. But the problem runs deeper. Yours, Sir – for this was a ‘sir’ – is one of honesty. You are a disruptive piece of shit, but haven’t even the decency to accept it.
There is a difference between a phone being on vibrate, and a phone being on silent, a difference you have failed to utilise effectively. A phone on silent is a tamed beast, shackled and muzzled, so that not a peep, let alone a ping or whir, may emanate from it, alerting its owner to the crucial fact that their latest tweet was retweeted by an Iggy Azalea fan account. A phone on vibrate, however, is one restrained by the loosest of leather restraints, and held in the fragile hands of an aged, arthritic stenographer; it buzzes and rumbles like an mid-era Nintendo game, treading the fine line between actual silence, and announcing its presence to the world.
Therefore, the phone on vibrate is a dishonest phone, one that wants the freedom to disrupt the peace of the world around it, but one too weak to face up to the consequences of being an annoying prat. As the phone, in any example, is not sentient, these traits and the responsibility for them must fall to its owner; in this case you, Sir, the dick in the library with your phone on vibrate.
I’m sure that Facebook conversation was important; evidently, you were discussing a cure for cancer, leukemia, and poverty, all in a single impossibly brilliant drug, and it is selfish and foolish of me to besmear your good name in such a way. But selfish and foolish I am, so I will continue to call you a fiend, a scoundrel, and a bellend, because it makes me feel better that if I can’t influence even the insignificant factors around my life, I can at least moan about them to a semi-anonymous audience in a blog post.
So you may have had the power and the elation of disturbing my reading of Keynes’ Alfred the Great earlier, but now you are immortalised as one of the Local Celebrities that I mock so mercilessly on this blog. Who’s immature now, Sir?