A special mention to Tom Adam’s relatable paean to the Nokia:I mourn that lump of plastic and its tiny little screen, With only ‘Snake’ to offer up a hit of dopamine. Telefacsimile documentarians One day will dutifully dig up the facts; Unmetaphorically, archaeological Fieldworkers might even dig up the fax. PrinceYou played us in at different speeds – Sixteen, ponderous, all spoken, Testaments, perhaps, or creeds: Black, shellac, and quickly broken. Bill GreenwellWhite noise and a dementing dance of dots, That’s all there’s left of analogue TV. I’ve still a set and switch her on and off, Not out of hope but just, you know, to see.