Ding-a-Frigging-Ling

Wakey wakey!

Remember that episode of Curb, where Larry David banged on about the evening cut off time for phone calls? Well, bugger me if I had my own moment of phone-based fury this week. 
I'd gone to bed ridiculously early at 9.30pm (that's a daily dose of anti-psychotics for you) only to be woken at 10.30 by a fucking phone call. And my ire wasn't just about being woken up but about being woken up by what I thought was a call announcing the death of my entire family/ the discovery of some tumour or other/ the lack of biscuits in the house. 
I mean, who calls at that time of night unless they have devastating news to impart? At what point did 10.30pm become prime time for a chat about the frigging weather? OK, so I retreat to my pit early these days but for fuck's sake. This isn't bleedin' Childline.
Anyway, as it was, said caller didn't have shit news. They just had shit manners. Oh and the social etiquette of a snagged polyp. Bastard.