White Lines


They would have been clutching black card invitations embellished with pictures of fast cars and loose women and bearing the endearing script ‘ Oh Shit I’m Forty’.

And they would have been joining ex-Pocket Phone Shop boss Simon Jordan for his 40th birthday party, in which it is assumed money and levels of decadence were
no object.

White Lines joins with the rest of Simon’s pals in welcoming him to his new mid-life crisis.
Trinity Buoy Wharf apparently ‘provides space for artists and cultural events’.
What better venue to celebrate a cultural event such as a 40th milestone?

What? Another party

Diary Note: must take loyal staff and best clients to Jongleurs Comedy Club in Camden Town on November 1 for the What Mobile Awards shindig.

A dress-down evening of cabaret, disco and a chance to network with our buddies and hot prospects in a relaxed (ie unlimited drinks) atmosphere. Must call Krystle on 020 7324 3509 or email for a table.

Box of tricks

Those incorrigible lags at Portlaoise prison are up to their old mobile phone smuggling tricks again.

Less than three months after recovering a charger from one enterprising con’s back passage (I can hardly bring myself to write this stuff), another phone was found in a fake box of legal papers.

Actually, it wasn’t so much a phone but a complete un-broken box of handset, charger, manual and accessories.

In a wonderful twist that has all the makings of a Frank Carson gag, screws became suspicious of the parcel as it had misspelt the name of the intended recipient; solicitor-client confidentiality usually means communications from legal representatives are not routinely inspected.

The package was made to look as if it had been sent from a top Dublin law firm and the recipient was due for release in November. Probably not any more.

A Fore gone conclusion

Congratulations to John McFarnon’s Advantage team for winning the Mobile News Golf Charity Challenge day, with McFarnon getting a stonking 42 Stableford points.

Home-aphobic handsets

Let me guess. If you’re a respectable elder of the mobile communications community, you probably live in a very nice house which is appreciating daily.

You’re probably confident that if you put it on the market, gazumpers will fall over themselves to throw huge sums of money to obtain the property. Well, that’s true – as long as your crib is in an area of strong mobile coverage.

Live in a ‘dead’ area and you may as well have coloured stone cladding and a pockmarked tarmac drive boshed down from some blokes who were ‘in the area’.

Y’see BT Fusion reckons that “with a third of all mobile calls being made from home, getting perfect mobile coverage has become so important that it is a potential deal breaker for a quarter of Brits who claim they would not buy or rent a property if it had poor mobile reception”.

Yikes. So much for the Lutron lighting, indoor pool, Bulthaup kitchen and sunken jacuzzi. If your buyers aren’t getting five bars the second they walk through the door, you may as well hock the palace and get a council house.

Or you may, like me, regard so-called ‘research’ as made-up nonsense. Especially when it continues: “ BT Fusion also uncovered that, when it comes to making mobile calls at home, one in 10 Brits still only has good reception in certain rooms and an unlucky eight per cent have poor mobile coverage throughout their homes.

“Residents go to extreme lengths to pick up and make mobile calls from their homes. One in 10 find altitude helps and go upstairs to use their mobiles, whilst 18 per cent are forced to keep changing rooms.”

Here’s some clever advice for anyone having to go to “extreme lengths” to make a mobile call from their home: use a proper telephone.

Jobbing actors

Anyone who has ever attended a keynote address by Steve Jobs will know his audience always comprises a hardcore of geek disciples who cheer and whoop his every utterance (“this is my new pair of iJeans – slimmer than ever before but with more room to get more paunch in – aren’t they amazing?” – cue whoops, hollers and applause).

The formula was much the same at the iPhone launch in London last week. Ranks of surly British hacks sat silent and poe-faced as Steve went into his much-practiced iPhone spiel.

Yet from the back a group of acolytes had been bussed in to add the necessary sound FX (cue whoops, hollers and applause).

Apart from that, the iPhone launch was the usual rock ’n’ roll and showbiz razzmatazz, with Jobs being followed everywhere around the Apple Store by his phalanx of gofers, PR droids and bodyguards.

Give us an old-fashioned boozy handset launch any time.