A Lateral Ring-Tone

As I watched - for what must have been the thousandth time - one of the sappier advertisements on Western Australian television, I was reminded of something I thought of a while ago. The advertisement in question was for City Subaru, which largely comprises of what is, in effect a little folk song, sung in worrying earnest by a young woman, and her acoustic guitarist, who, just to add to the folksy vibe, gives his guitar-body a percussive slap or two. It's a wonder I've not heard anyone busking it in the Hay St Mall.

And that's when it struck me; I could irritate a lot of people if I got that tune as a ring tone for my portable telephone. (I don't care for the term "mobile", unless it's a coat-hanger with visual distractions affixed to beguile infants, and a cell is where you put neer-do-wells.) You see, I don't actually want to irritate people indiscriminately, but I'd like to have a back-up ring tone to respond to people who seem not to care about just how bothersome their ring tones are.

I once worked in an office environment where one particular women, who was frequently absent from her desk - but whose phone was not - who thought nothing of letting her infernal device ring incessantly, and at a volume that could raise the dead. Fortunately, I managed to shame her into altering this practice, largely through ruminating airily about the kind of ring tone I might soon select if she did not change her ways. I thought about getting a fog horn, or an air raid siren. I thought about the sound of a chainsaw, ideally being used to remove the leg of someone lacking either anaesthetic or infection. If somebody had thought to record the sound of Dresden being bombed, I could have used that. Or, most annoying of all, the sound of Brian Naylor attempting to call a football game.

But as it turns out, none of the above were needed. A shame, in a a way, as I've never set my PT to ring with anything but the blandest of ring tones. That Subaru advertisement could be just the ticket. And if I could isolate that percussive slapping sound, that might work perfectly to signify the arrival of a message. (The word "text" is redundant - there is no such thing as a message that is not a text. You can call it a word message if you like, but a both word message and voice message are texts.)

You know, it'd be great if I could get the sound of Big Ben on my PT. And I'll conclude with a little known fact; the tune that most clocks play to sound the hours has lyrics. They are; "O Lord our God/Be Thou our guide/That by thy help/No foot may slide." I can't for the life of me think of something poignant, or even interesting to add in response to that, other than to wonder why the lyricist thought that people need pray about their adroitness every fifteen minutes for the duration of their lives. I guess footpaths were more slippery back then.

And once my phone sounded like a clock, I could go about making all of my appliances swap sound. My washing machine could whistle when my clothes are done, my kettle could chime like my doorbell. (Which I guess would be silent, as I don't have a doorbell. So, I'll have to get a kettle that knocks.) Then, I can go about giving my whitegoods more slightly less literal names.

All while humming that Subaru tune. I wonder if it's on iTunes. Lord, I hope so.

Incidentally, this kind of blog is what happens when the Eagles play as badly as they are right now. John Worsfold, you've got a lot of bloody work to do.