My new mobile phone is really irritating me at the moment.

It isn’t causing me to itch uncontrollably or anything like that; it’s just generally leaving my nut more done in than a pistachio that has been cracked open by a battering ram, rolled over by a tank, and then fallen underneath the backside of that fat lass from ‘Birds of a Feather’. Who keeps shuffling. And she’s sat on concrete.

When you go online to sign up for a new mobile – would you actually go in a shop called ‘Phones 4U’ rather than buy online? If so, step away from the blog – a number of handset credentials (I’m going to sell them that phrase) are listed.

For instance there might be ‘standby: 14.5 days’, ‘talk: 9.0 hours’ or ‘flash with Schneider-Kreuznach lens’, which I had previously thought to be a tactical instruction given to Luftwaffe pilots in 1942. What it doesn’t mention, though, is anything about predictive text.

Predictive text on most phones now runs along the T9 system. T9, the much less interesting older brother (or ‘the Paul Ross’, if you like) of K9 the dog is basically easy to use.

However, the ‘words’ the newest version predicts have left me quite incensed, incandescent even with enough rage to contemplate turning to the dark side of single-key entering.

For instance, when I wanted to enter the word ‘or’, the first option was for the ‘word’ ‘ms’. ‘MS?’ thought I. ‘Manuscript?’ ‘Marks and Spencer?’ ‘Microsoft?’

No, that little ‘ms’ was the shrieking bastard-child version of what, if I didn’t take affirmative action, would mutate quite hideously into ‘msg’. ‘MSG’, which apparently now, in this context, means ‘message’. I scrolled down, found ‘or’ and pressed ‘enter’.

Afterwards, I felt a bit like Superman must when he is flying out of a burning building, Lois in his arms and a further explosion going off as he climbs into the sky.

Then, when I tried to type ‘just’, the first option, gallingly, hatefully, was ‘l8r’. Don’t these people know who I am?

Connected to this, the dictionary that T9 runs from is basically inept. In fact, completely inept. It is a demonstration of advanced ineptitude. In every text message I write, I have to spell and store at least one new word.

In my quieter moments, I now enter words that I think I might use in the future. Last month, I keyed-in some swearwords, which can be dangerous; my ‘Cunt Betty’ still hasn’t spoken to me in a week.

What I want is a predictive text system built for people who don’t partake in the systematic rape of the language – a predictive text system for grammar myrmidons everywhere.

I want it to have the words ‘Ebbsfleet’, ‘turpitude’ and ‘mulct’.

I want it to know when I wish to use an apostrophe instead of making me navigate my cursor over a cabal of chunk-faced, sick-yellow and frankly creepy looking ‘smilies’ to make a selection.

In short, I want it to make my heart sing as only an invention like that really could; over to you Dr Emmett ‘Doc’ Brown – you’ve done nothing since you built that time machine, you lazy, white-haired crazy-piece with a dog.