I've had a rethink about hating Bluetooth because of the hand-waving buffoons its tends to attract, most of whom seem to sit next to me on the bus home. I realised it would be wrong to shoot the messenger, so to speak. It's not the technology, it's the people who use it.

Yesterday I had the pleasure of sitting next to Essex Man – a diamond geeza apparently on his way 'ome after an 'ard day selling jellied eels – who proceeded to shout into his state-of-the-art 3G phone with built-in 3-megapixel camera and digital music player, all the way to Elephant & Castle. On the way I had the pleasure of hearing, even though I turned up my iPod until my ears were bleeding, about his mother's urinary tract infection – the doctas don't nah nuffink – and his sister's brush wiv an 'appy slapper. I would usually have moved, but the postcard-sized piece of seat that he had graciously afforded me to perch on was just too comfortable. I think Dagenham Dave was on a mission to single-handedly reimburse Vodafone for the billions it over-hastily splashed out on a 3G licence. Well, somebody's got to.