464-7788- Get it Right

“Conscience, my old chum, my bosom buddy, my pal, my confidant, my … so how the devil are you? And more to the point, where in the name of all that’s holy have you been, eh? Eh? Eh? I have been doing some frankly sickeningly depraved and despicable things, many of which would make your eyes water, and have I heard from you? Well, have I? Not a word, or a peep for that matter. You never write, you never call, you never email. I even tried looking you up on Facebook. But nothing. It's like you fell off the face of my earth. So I sat here - sat, lay, suspended myself upside down, and many other positions besides - indulging in pleasures of the flesh whilst ingesting a cornucopia of toxins no one in the moral majority would approve. The kind of behaviour that would not only make my poor mothers hair curl, but would undoubtedly cause it to fall out, and yet you remained silent. Unusually mute, by your standards. No murmured whispers of sanity, reason and righteousness to set me back on the straight and narrow - don’t interrupt, I said - so it’s hardly surprising that I now find myself infected with all manner of … Michele? There's no Michele here. My name is Munkay and you must have the wrong number."