Cornelia Frances |
I was flying along the motorway this morning with my greying locks drying in the blast of the air con, when my karaoke accompaniment to the Eagles’ Hotel California on the radio was suddenly interrupted by the overbearing crone who lives in my dashboard.
CLICK “You’ve have a text message from… A. Scotto. Hubby,” she interjected in her patronising tone.
“Do you want to read it? Or ignore it?”
I really can’t stand the woman in my Blue Tooth. She sounds like a toffee-nosed mixture of Cornelia Frances and Penelope Keith.
Penelope Keith |
Not that I have anything against Penelope and Cornelia. In fact for a long time I thought they were the same person. But I don’t like the sound of the bossy, stuck up piece of work who lives in my dashboard.
Scotto’s Bluetooth lady is much more sultry; she has a sexy, lilting Caribbean accent. I imagine her to look like a Bond girl or something. In fact sometimes I feel a bit jealous when I hear her flirting with him in the car.
“Read it!” I yelled, as a suicidal motorbike overtook me on the left and I very nearly accidentally took him out.
I was shocked. Normally the bia-tch makes me say “Read it!” at least five fudging times before she stops pretending not to understand my Aussie accent.
She read the message, CLICK “Do you need your school laptop?”
“Fudge!” I shrieked. I never take my laptop home because if I do I always forget to bring it back to school… like I just did today. I can’t survive a school day without my laptop. It has EVERYTHING on it.
CLICK “Do you want to reply or are you done?” she asked with her imaginary eyebrow arched in contempt.
“Reply!” I shouted.
CLICK “What is your message?” she asked in an almost pleasant tone.
“If it’s not too much trouble could you please drop it out to the school?” I said which extreme care and clarity in my articulation.
It was a bit of a hike out into Woop Woop land for Scotto but I was desperate. All my reports and gradings were on the laptop.
Penelope/Cornelia repeated my message perfectly.
Penelope/Cornelia repeated my message perfectly.
I was in shock. This had never happened before. It was unprecedented. I’d never gone this far in a conversation with Penelope/Cornelia before. Usually I lose my temper with having to repeat things over and over and scream obscenities at her until she hangs up on me.
CLICK “Do you want to send it or change it?”
I smiled at the dashboard. Maybe she wasn’t such a vicious, snotty bitch after all.
“Send,” I chirruped gaily.
There was a pause.
CLICK “I’m sorry, did you say send or change it?”
I squinted suspiciously at the panel. “Send!” I repeated in a slightly louder voice.
CLICK “I’m sorry, did you say send or change?”
I tried it in a more natural voice.
“Send,” I stated, with a pinch of carefree nonchalance.
CLICK “I’m sorry, did you say send or change it?”
You’re not sorry you sly old bat, I thought. I detected a supercilious attitude in her tone this time.
“SEND!” I screamed one more time.
There was a pause and for a few seconds I suspected I might have broken it.
CLICK “I’m sorry, did you say send or change?” the voice repeated again.
“Fudge you! You stupid, moronic piece of bullsh$t! I said SEND! SEND! SEND! SEND! Are you an idiot or just pretending to be stupid? FUDGE OFF!”
CLICK “I’m sorry, did you say send or change?”
I didn’t make a peep; just glowered at the console. I heard her gently hang up on me.
When I arrived at school I rang Scotto ‘old school’ style and he obligingly brought out my laptop so all ended well.
But I’m going to get that bia-tch back one day.
CLICK “Do you want to send it or change it?”
I smiled at the dashboard. Maybe she wasn’t such a vicious, snotty bitch after all.
“Send,” I chirruped gaily.
There was a pause.
CLICK “I’m sorry, did you say send or change it?”
I squinted suspiciously at the panel. “Send!” I repeated in a slightly louder voice.
CLICK “I’m sorry, did you say send or change?”
I tried it in a more natural voice.
“Send,” I stated, with a pinch of carefree nonchalance.
CLICK “I’m sorry, did you say send or change it?”
You’re not sorry you sly old bat, I thought. I detected a supercilious attitude in her tone this time.
“SEND!” I screamed one more time.
There was a pause and for a few seconds I suspected I might have broken it.
CLICK “I’m sorry, did you say send or change?” the voice repeated again.
“Fudge you! You stupid, moronic piece of bullsh$t! I said SEND! SEND! SEND! SEND! Are you an idiot or just pretending to be stupid? FUDGE OFF!”
CLICK “I’m sorry, did you say send or change?”
I didn’t make a peep; just glowered at the console. I heard her gently hang up on me.
When I arrived at school I rang Scotto ‘old school’ style and he obligingly brought out my laptop so all ended well.
But I’m going to get that bia-tch back one day.