Eet is a neightmayre of meyn (yet weethout rappidlye mouving speyders, which ees thee other neightmayre of meyn) that all the wourld becommes leyk meyn own mother constantly yapping awaye on thee fone even in mine immeddiate presensce. What humour has brought this dreme to trueth? No doubt the greede of corpourations ees at playe here, conspeyering to mayke ye all into gossips as grete as meyn own mother.
Ach, ye hath, perchansce, no idea how deesturbing even thee mere fiddle-ing with yar cell fone is for yar struggling teecher. Eef ye cannot bee without it I sujjest putting off colledg until as mannie years pass as that ye have finallye recognized thee dimness of yar eegerness to text yar friend or playe mindless ylectronic gaymes with angree byrds while in front of yar teecher. Ye wood disrespect yar teecher and classmaetes by plaeying solitaire with a deck of cards in class, would ye? It is d’same.
And wen talking to me by fayce, do not answer yar fone, for I shall turn awaye and be gone, for my manners do prohibit me from dysturbing yar more traysured conversaytions.