So my lovely, slim, small, smart, trendy, funky touch-screen Samsung F480 (which sounds as though it should be a Ferrari) handset sits – shiningly – on my desk in front of me.
Dead asÂ the proverbialÂ doornail. Or to put it another way… As alive as a flock of Dodos.
And I, who lives and breathes and does mucho mucho muchoÂ business via his mobile phone… am gutted.
And very seriously unimpressed with Mr Samsung for having given me a defective product.