Apologies to Monty Python

My phone tripped down the stairs this morning.

It's not pining, it's passed on. This phone is no more. It has ceased to be. It's expired and gone to meet its maker. This is a late phone. It's a stiff. Bereft of life, it rests in peace. If you hadn't glued it together, it would be pushing up the daisies. Its mechanical processes are now history! It's off the twig! It's kicked the bucket, it's shuffled off his mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible! This is an ex-phone!

I will sacrifice my lunchtime to go shopping for a new lifeline, of the Nokia kind.