Me: “Hello?”

Them: “Hello.”

Me: “Yes, hello.”

Them: “Hello?”

Me: “Yes, we’ve established that.”

Them: “As’salaamu aleikum?”

Me: “That’s pretty much ‘hello’ again, isn’t it? Are you going to tell me who’s calling?”

Them: *click*

This happens about five times a week despite my resolute refusal to become a Mr Islam (about once every fifth call they at least tell me who I’m supposed to be). Mr Islam is presumably a man who used to have my phone number, but emigrated to Nicaragua to avoid being pestered by people with the communicatory grace of howler monkeys. Unfortunately for him he will now be having to deal with actual howler monkeys, but howler monkeys are at least diurnal creatures, and do not call then rudely hang up at half past bloody midnight. They can also be temporarily silenced with a well placed banana, a technique which so far has merely made my telephone somewhat sticky.

And yes, this entire entry is just a flimsy excuse to put that picture up. He deserves something rather better, but never mind.