A Samsung fairytale...

Once upon a time, on the way home from a pissed up night in a karaoke bar at the top of a golden tower, a young girl called Tracy lost her phone. Much to her dismay, after making a long distance call to her prince in England from the back of taxi, upon awakening sober the next morning she realised she'd left it there.

In the dangerous land of thieves and beggars from which young Tracy came, a missing, sparkling gem like a Samsung phone, would undoubtedly stay that way. Lost. Forever. Perhaps, she thought, the taxi driver might keep it for himself, or another Dubian explorer would pounce upon the urban treasure, with a magpie-like glint in his eye and a heart of stone. She called her phone to no avail. It was switched off. Alas, alack, poor Tracy and her treasure had parted much too soon, no thanks to her Shiraz-fuelled shenanigans.

Throughout the day, the faithful Tracy dialled her number, with hope in her hungover liver. er.heart. The verdict never changed. Perhaps the insurance will cover it, she whispered into her monitor, as she scrolled through T Mobile's terms and conditions. But those unspoken words echoed around the office like a tragic love song - "We all know it'll take fucking months for them to deliver out here."

But little did Tracy know, her luck was about to change. That night, she sat in the food court of a palatial shopping mall, dejectedly shovelling plastic forks full of teppenyaki beef into her mouth from a styrofoam plate. She gazed unseeingly at the passers-by - dreaming no doubt, of a life free from communication, and every time a person strolled past with a mobile phone, she felt a thousand mini-daggers pierce her soul. Across the table, her good friend Becky - a stunning princess from foreign shores with full red lips, killer tits and reams of thick, shiny blonde hair - dialled her number once more, just for the hell of it. And someone answered.

The ladies almost spat out their food in surprise. "Ah, I been waiting for your call" said the voice at the other end. "Your battery died, so I put your sim card in my phone. I bring to you. Where you at?"

At first, Tracy couldn't speak. In turn, Becky bit a chunk off her plastic fork and almost swallowed it with some cucumber. Could it be that an angel had landed in Dubai, with a heart of gold and a taxi cab?

Two hours later, Tracy was reunited with her sparkling Samsung phone. The angel drove it right to her door and placed it into her welcoming hands. She noticed, as he handed it over, his own phone had itself been created at the dawn of time. Its weathered screen was devoid of colour. It was so large it would probably break the lining of his trousers if he tried to keep it in his pocket, and who knows if even doubled as an mp3 player with unlimited Internet access and a built in Tomb Raider game with infrared headset attachment (like hers)?

As she kissed her phone good night, back once more in its rightful place beside her pillow, Tracy swore she would never be mean to a taxi driver in Dubai again. And the moral of this story? Just because someone can't drive, speak English or navigate their way around a city for which they are paid to know every inch, doesn't mean they'll nick your mobile phone if you leave it the back of their car.