“It just, like, broke”

You collar an Apple Genius and explain angrily that your phone simply stopped working. “It seems to have Toilet Duck inside it, Sir?” the overly smiley upstart replies. What? I don’t even own a toilet, mate, can you just give me a new one? One of those white ones if possible…

“Your email went into my junk folder!”

Nope, you’re just not a first XI kind of friend.

“Dear Sir, please find attached my CV…”

You “integrated the effective hyper-use of social networking in your business”, “prioritised the strategic targeting of Twitter” and “led a team into a Force 8 LinkedIn SEO digital mega storm”. You’re one step away from claiming you invented the iPad, rather than just using one to play Stick Cricket in the stationery cupboard.

“I have very sophisticated music tastes”

Whenever you listen to that psych-folk duo from Portland, Oregon, that recorded their last album on an old tugboat marooned in a Swedish forest you make darn sure your eclectic Spotify choice is plastered all over Facebook. When you fancy a bit of Deeply Dippy it’s straight into a “private session”; the musical equivalent of only wearing that trendy waistcoat you bought in the safety of your own home. You coward.

“It just deleted itself!”

There’s a clash on the Sky planner, it’s yours or hers… best delete her recording and claim the weather must have interfered with the signal. “Damn,” you say, “damn, what a bloody shame. I know how much you wanted to watch that one-off Panorama special investigating that new course of medicine you’re on. Never mind, sit with me and watch Bear Grylls – he’s jumping off of a tree in this one!”

“I’m really not sure, Mum…”

The woman who carried you inside her for nine months, who fed, taught and nurtured you, asks if you can teach her how to use iTunes. Your hasty reply? “Sorry Mum, not sure how it works. Anyway I’m running late for a… thing, I’ll probably see you at Christmas, get in some of those bacon and sausage things just in case.” Heartless.

“I understand everything in this contract”

Yeah sure, I’ve read and fully grasped these 89 pages of tiny-typefaced legalese. Now give me my firmware upgrade already! Hey, where are you going with my soul?

“Of course; I’ll queue that up”

At any house party there is guaranteed to be some drunkard vagabond that will approach you and ask if they can play a track that’s sure to get the party “bangin’.” You will, of course, reassure them that you’ll add it to the party playlist, then closely guard your laptop for the rest of the night in case he – it’s always a he – returns to take control of the digital jukebox. Because no party of yours is going to suffer 1988 smash hit Waiting for a Star to Fall by Boy Meets Girl. Not on your watch, soldier.

“This piece has a beautiful tourbillon”

People don’t really know how watches work or why they sometimes cost the same amount as a house in Surbiton, in the same way that nobody truly knows what the internet is, how the Cloud works, what makes a good wine and when the right time to use a tourniquet is. This is why high-end watch spiel sounds like The Apprentice contestants trying to market face cream. Apart from in T3, of course.

“I thought about getting an iPad, but…

I just didn’t want to be an Apple fanboy.” There’s no easier or quicker way of letting other people know you’re just too poor for nice things.