All very entertaining it was too.
It got me thinking of other uses for this sort of software, and so I tried this:
- Send a piece of poetry as a text message to my land-line number
- Record the result when the message arrives
And here is the result; the closing lines of Carol Ann Duffy's Prayer. Enjoy.
Some days, although we cannot pray, a prayer utters itself. So, a woman will lift her head from the sieve of her hands and stare at the minims sung by a tree, a sudden gift. Some nights, although we are faithless, the truth enters our hearts, that small familiar pain; then a man will stand stock-still, hearing his youth in the distant Latin chanting of a train. Pray for us now. Grade 1 piano scales console the lodger looking out across a Midlands town. Then dusk, and someone calls a child's name as though they named their loss. Darkness outside. Inside, the radio's prayer - Rockall. Malin. Dogger. Finisterre.