Young mums have all the fun!
Outrageous! Is there no end to the Goverments pandering to teenage trollops with naught better to do than watch Jeremy Kyle and sit in The Sun, dreaming of being a page free moddul like Jordan, coz she's, like, dead down to erf an' that.
Just because I'm sinkhole, with no rampaging brood clamouring around my boots at the benefits office, I have to pay a fortune in landlines and peak/off-peak calls. And what do these Young Mums get?
Their very own exclusive direct line for free!
Multi-hued tendrils of string adorn the foliage, clambering over rooftops and dangling from the roofs of supermarkets (and probably encroaching into railway stations and grasping the necks of artistic TV types). And at the end is the now legendary Yoghurt Pot, so that these Underage Grandmothers can gossip about how much calcium is in their Petty Filou...
...although I don't recall old Mr Beddowes being all that petty - it were more them Black Widders.
Wah-wah wh-wah-wahhhhhh!
Anywhichway, how come Young Mums (Go For It!) get this most cheap of infrastructure? Why not extend it to non-families, and add in optional extras!
How about a bakey bean tim, instead of a tub of yoghurt? OK, so it may not smell as sweetly fragrant, but you could do some cool echoey type stuff - and pull off a Darth Vader! But not in a wanky sense - I'm not tossing off a Dark Lord of the Sith just to get some dramatic heavy breathing down my 'phone'.
Yoghurt pots and string - I bet Alex Graham Bell wish he thought of that, rather than spilling his 'yoghurt' all over his lap, in order to have a reason to use his new electric talky-stick:
"Watson! Come here. I want you..." (fnarr fnarr)
