I’m rather pissed off this morning. You know that shiny new mobile I spent £90 on Wednesday? Well, it’s been stolen. Already.
I was out at the Friday Night Disco, and about 20 minutes from the end reached into my pocket, to find that it was missing. It was nowhere on the dance floor, security hadn’t seen it and no-one had handed it in to the bar. When a friend of mine tried ringing it, it reported that it had been turned off (bearing in mind that when I last had it it was still turned on), so I imagine someone’s taken it. Grrrrr.
Anyway, I’m going to ring up Vodafone and ask them to block the IMEI number, which should make the phone useless to anyone (even with a different SIM card), and see about getting a new SIM card with my credit transferred over. And I need to ring my parents to see if we get anything out of the insurance company.
I am still very annoyed about this. In fact, if I could find the heartless little toerag who nicked it, I’d be very tempted to kick him in the nuts.
