Rooster Ringtone Rage

I've had a mobile phone since 1993.  I use it for messages, texts and as an alarm clock and timer.

Fester got his a lot later.  He only has a mobile to ring people, not to be contactable, so it's never switched on; unless by accident, which happens surprisingly often.  He has read texts hopeful people have sent him but has never, to my certain knowledge, sent one.  If my mobile goes off and I'm not in the room he brings it to me, flat on his hand, arm extended, as if it were an explosive device.

Sometimes I recharge the current mobile via the computer.  All is well if I leave it on the white workbench.  But if I leave it on top of the black computer box he has "a helluva job finding it", despite the fact the screen flashes and the whole thing vibrates.

I'm banned from using the ringtone as an alarm.  

Instead we have the lady saying "The time is 7:30, it's time to get up." 

In preparing the video to accompany this blog there were eighteen chimes before a 

"Ben, where's the mobile?" from my recumbent partner.

From Facebook archives

21 September 2016 at 19:41

My ringtone is a crowing cockerel.
This evening Mrs Leftfoot has been texting me as she's stuck on a metro.

I have returned the favour so there's been quite a conversation going on.
"Every time that thing goes off I think 'F*ck me that's a loud seagull!'" 

says Dr F the entomologist and 

"Every time a bloody seagull goes over I think it's that bloody ringtone"