Where would we be without the telephone? The ultimate 20th-century gizmo - that may or may not have been invented by a Scot - hasn't changed much in its function over the years. It's still just a means of communication. But our relationship with this simple device has become increasingly complicated.

You can't argue with the usefulness of a mobile phone, which has gone from brick to brilliant in barely 20 years. But spare a thought for the poor old phone box. The indignity of being robbed of the regal red livery and replaced by draughty smoked plastic was bad enough. Now our little polyphonic friends are sounding the death knell for phone boxes across the land, albeit in the dulcet tones of The Blue Danube, Kylie or that irritating Nokia tune.

Last week, BT announced that it wants to remove redundant phone boxes and has asked the regulator Ofcom to review its obligation to keep them. They're not profitable (£1000 a year in upkeep) and alarm bells are ringing for BT, which got rather fond of making zillions of pounds a second when it ruled the airwaves.

A BT spokesman said: "Payphone usage has halved over the last three years. BT has been looking for new revenue streams, and has to continue to look at ways of taking cost out of the business, including, where feasible, removing unprofitable payphones from areas of low usage."

There are almost 6000 phone boxes in Scotland; 223 did not host any calls last year. But campaigners are angry. They say it is yet another blow for rural areas and that payphones provide a vital service, especially in areas with poor mobile reception. Heaven forfend that BT might have to provide a service in return for monopolising millions over the years.

But this rather misses the point. Sadly, I suspect the rural public might prefer more masts and better network coverage than standing in a cold call box with a torch.

I fear that our increasingly unhealthy relationship with the phone says more about us than we care to admit.

Our 11-year-old has been making his case for a phone for some months now, bolstered by the news that Santa delivered this must-have accessory to many of his pals. He talks of "emergencies" and safety. Using a payphone would not cross his mind. He thinks I must be at least 90 when I tell him that in my day, essential items in the Brownie uniform pocket were a 2p and a 5p for emergency calls. I don't recall anyone ever needing their coins, but we were prepared, even if the uniform was hideous.

Now emergencies have also changed. Police have been forced to reconsider their greeting for 999 callers because of the number of stupid folk contacting them with daft dilemmas.

South Wales Police will now ask "what is your emergency?" rather than "how can we help?" Idiot callers include the woman who needed £1 for her supermarket trolley, the owner of a kitten who didn't know what to do with it, and the wife whose husband would not give up the remote control.

Even the dumbest Brownie knows that these are not emergencies. I suspect that these callers would have thought twice about phoning if they'd had to fish out 20p and find a call box. And it proves just how much we've lost touch.