Tag Archives: iphone 13 in dead zones

Call Me, Call Me Any, Anytime

The iPhone 13, due for release next month, is expected to use satellite communications to allow its use in coverage “dead zones”…

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…. Lassie woke instantly, and began to race towards the house. then she heard a voice from behind her.

“Mom? Hi, it’s Timmy … yeah, look, I’ve fallen down the well.”

Lassie smiled to herself, and went back to dozing happily…

-o0o-

… shivering as the shrieking wind battered the tent. Captain Oates climbed slowly to his feet.

“I’m going outside,” he said. “I may be some time.”

Scott’s eyes widened with surprise and with the crackling sound of tiny icicles breaking. Oates took his phone from his pocket.

“It’s my Gran’s birthday,” he explained. “I always give her a call.”

-o0o-

… at last the celebrating Trojans slept, leaving just a small group of sentries around the horse – not for fear of attack, but simply to stop it being graffitied.

The night was passing without incident, and one of the sentries was just taking a deep breath to yell “four o’clock, and all’s well” when from deep in the belly of the giant horse came the tinny sound of the ringtone version of the theme tune to Zorba the Greek…

-o0o-

… “Heuston, we have a problem,” said Lovell, a lot more calmly than he felt.

“Say again?” came the reply.

“We have a -” he looked over at Swigert, who gave him a thumbs-up. “Actually, it’s ok, Heuston,” said Lovell, “Jack Googled it.”

-o0o-

As he stumbled across the foot-burning sands he suddenly saw the glint of water, blinding as it was hit by the midday sun, and the obligatory single palm tree.

He was sure it was a mirage, but headed towards it anyway. He cried – or would have, had his body contained enough moisture to make tears – as he discovered that it was real, an oasis far out here in the desert.

He fell face first into the small pool, and drank and drank.

Then he logged onto TripAdvisor. “The water was warm, and there was no sparkling option,” he wrote. “Two stars.”

-o0o-

Deep in the forest, something stirred.

It was the witch, gloomily stirring her cauldron.

She had built a cottage of gingerbread so that she could attract children, and eat them. Why she didn’t simply eat the gingerbread is not clear.

And her plan had worked, almost. Hansel and Gretel had arrived, but, before she could begin her Bond-villainly complicated plan of fattening them up (with food, which again she could have eaten herself) they had taken a selfie outside her cottage, with her glowering at the door, and posted it on Instagram.

She’d had to let them go.