Tell Me I'm Not getting Old

I've just had the bus ride from hell. Teenagers with ghetto blasters under their blazers spewing out what sounded like a mutant hybrid of drum n' bass and the theme tune from TellyTubbies.

If I had my way, with people like this, as well as those with extraordinarily loud ringtones that play the latest Gabba track, or worse, some Rn'B catawalling from some talentless trollop, I would round them all up, stick them on an island, strap all their arms to their sides, and ring them all up at the same time so they'd all be deafened by the simultaneous shrieking of their combined ringtones, which they of course would never ever be able to answer. I would then employ someone to walk amidst them hurling screwed up bits of paper past their ears at various intervals.

I might write to my M.P. with my radical new idea. A fine use of taxpayers money I think.