De-text-able

Two thirty am. I am trembling on the edge of sleep when a sharp beep from my cellphone wakes me. In the darkened room the neon light of the phone makes it look ghostly, possessed - a spectre calling to me from another world. I have, it seems, a new message.

My first instinct is simply to ignore the damned thing. Just snuggle back into my pillow and forget about it till morning. But who could me text-ing me at this hour? Maybe there's been an emergency. Maybe someone I care for is in hospital or in tears. Maybe someone needs me, maybe this message is a call for help.

Slowly I crawl my way out of the covers, make my bleary-eyed way over to the table (not forgetting to stumble over shoes, magazines and the occasional chair on my way), shivering in the early morning cold. Really anxious now, I thumb my way through the phone menu, mentally bracing myself for bad news. It takes a moment for my eyes to focus.

The message reads: "Dear Sprint Customer. This is to confirm that in accordance with your request, we shall no longer be sending you text notifications of new deals and offers on Sprint. To resubscribe to this service, please reply T to this message. Thank you."

Aarrghhh!! The world is made up of morons.