The pen is mightier

to jane.brown@brown_and _masham.co.uk

- Look, you can't keep phoning me at home.

My wife is beginning to suspect. We'll have to switch to something more private - like email. TTFN.

to [email protected]

- Hello, sexy! I've got the perfect gadget for writing to you. It's called a BT SmartQuill. It's a pen you can write text files with. It recognises your handwriting as you write it. It's got a diary and address book and note-taker, a dinky little screen for reading messages, a pager and a radio link to my mobile phone so I can beam you little love sonnets. LOL.

to [email protected]

- Darling! Listen, where do you think I'm writing this? In bed - with Gloria. She thinks I'm doing The Observer crossword. Apparently this SmartQuill can even recognise handwriting in the air. I'll wire you tomorrow. SWALK.

to [email protected]

- Joust a newt to teal you hoy match I loathe you - and to prude it I've whittled you a nether loathe summit. Hair it isn't. XXXX.

to [email protected]

I am mortified. I had no idea my SmartQuill had scrambled my last message.

It seems it just isn't powerful enough to recognise joined-up writing. Instead, I'm going to use the Cellafone transcription service. All I have to do is transmit the image of what I've written via my mobile phone and Cellafone will transcribe it and send it back. BURMA.

to [email protected]

- Dear Miss Squidgy, I have received a message which I believe may have been intended for you. I have led a sheltered life and some of the more graphic detail in the missive fairly made my hair stand on end. Should you be at a loose end on Saturday night, I would be delighted to entertain you. I would, of course, be prepared to pay. Yours sincerely, etc.

to [email protected]

- Missed you on Saturday night. I do hope your great aunt is feeling better. But I'm pleased to hear you've bought a new digital TV set. Wherever did you raise the cash? XXXX

to [email protected]

- Dear Miss Brown. When I picked up my husband's pen to take a phone message, it played the first five bars of The Stripper and flashed up your email address. It began scrolling through a series of excruciating doggerel in which your name was remarkably prominent. When you see my husband, perhaps you could tell him to pop the alimony cheque in the post?

TVM. Gloria.

Paul Bray is a freelance IT journalist.