One was really swanky. It could tell the weather, sing, dance and count to a thousand. It cost a lot of money and was designed by a Knight of the Realm.

The other had horrible green edging and you had to press the 7 key 4 times just to get an S. It could, however, do something that Franki was finding very, very hard…

It could speak French. And every day it was gently mocking her.

Franki used to want to be like the iPhone, all shiny and clever and modern. Then she moved to Paris and didn’t care about any of that anymore. She just wanted to be able to do what her €19, piece of shit, pay-as-you-go Vicatel mobile (and every other man on the street) could do and was finding it all quite humbling.

Then she went out, got drunk and lost them both. And that was the end of that feeble little allegory.