ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
A local man’s Lightning cable is currently refusing to go gently into the night, he says, opting to die a hero’s death on the altar of freedom as it continues to fight until its dying breath.
The inner-most wiring of Conor Simpson’s loyal phone cable have been exposed for days; it’s even had a room-temperature cup of green tea spilt over it.
Still, it clings to life.
Speaking exclusively to The Advocate from his third-floor office window, the comically-underemployed hospitality professional said the nature of his work means he churns through phones and their accessories at quite a rate.
“I make coffee,” he yelled.
“For professionals. The type of people who don’t make eye contact with humans who make their money by the hour, not by the handshake. It sucks but I guess I shouldn’t have done a degree in marine biology,”
“Anyway, all my phone cables get munted on the job all the time but I’ve got one that fucking deserves the Victoria Cross of the technology world. I can’t believe it still works! You should come up and have a look.”
As our reporter had nothing better to do, The Advocate got the lift up to the third floor to take a look at the heroic Lightning cable and agreed that by the looks of things, it should be in the bin by now.
“Nice,” our reporter said.
“I’ll definitely do an article on this.”
More to come.
