The Greasy Spoon — 29th March 2026

The cafe doesn't open on Sundays, so Joe called Bob on his new iPhone

—‘Ello? 

—Bob? It’s me, Joe. 

—Bloody ‘ell, mate! You’ve joined the modern world and got yerself a phone. 

—Yeah, thought I’d better. 

—What ‘ave yer got? 

—Er, one of them I-whadyercallit. 

—iPhone? 

—Ah, yeah. One of them. 

—Blimey, did yer order it yerself? 

—Nah, I wouldn’t ‘ave a clue. Yer know Raj who runs me local shop? 

—Yep? 

—His daughter, Maya, ‘elped me out. 

—Ah, great. 

—Yeah, she’s a nice lass. I gave ‘er a fiver for ‘er help. 

—Good on yer. 

—We ain’t goin’ to the caff today?

—Nah, it don’t open on Sundays, remember? 

—Ah yeah, I wanted to get the number for it to put it in me phone. 

—Good idea, mate. 

—I put yours in first. 

—Aww, did yer? 

—Yeah, under ’n’ for nobhead. 

—Fuck off, you. 

—Ha! Ay, I didn’t ‘ave to change the time. 

—For the clocks goin’ forward? 

—Yeah, Maya said I didn’t need to bother; it did it automatically. 

—Ah yeah, clever, ain’t it? 

—It is, although I wish the daft buggers would leave the clocks alone. 

—I agree, mate. We ain’t at war anymore, not yet anyway. 

—Eh? 

—Yeah, they introduced it in 1916 to get the most daylight hours they could. Save coal an’ tha’. 

—Ooh, aye. Yeah, yer righ’. 

—So, Joe, ‘ave yer got any apps on yer new iPhone yet? 

—Any wha’? 

—Apps. 

—What yer on about? 

—Blimey. Don’t worry about it. Ask Maya what they are. 

—Righ’ I will. 

—Caff tomorrow? 

—Yep. 

—Righ, see yer then. 

…

—‘Ello, again, Joe. 

—Wha’? Oh, Fuck, sorry mate. Pressed the wrong button. 

—Ha! You’ll get used to it. 

—See ya.