I swear various household goods are plotting against me. The bin for instance, and his predecessors, is a bastard. Tis not an old bin and neither were his predecessors, but it's a complete bastard. And broken. For no reason. As did his predecessors. I wouldn't mind if we had got them from 'Ourbins'R'Shoite', but when you spend a fair amount of money on a kitchen bin you expect it to be able to withstand normal kitchen waste and not shriek and fall to pieces at the first sign of a foil wrapper from an Aunt Bessies mini toad in the hole.
A naughty word but true. It 'bit' me. OK so maybe I might have put a bit too much oil in the pan but the vicious fucker burnt me and it hurt. And one of the knobs has fallen off.
Maybe I have been bad towards appliances and the like in a previous life? I'll admit I aint much of a fan of cleaning them properly, but I have used them wisely. I mean, i've never tried to make porridge in the washing machine or toast in the kettle. Which are both arsehole appliances incase you were wondering....
The most recent incident that caused major trauma was the drawer on my bed slamming shut on my leg in an attempt to break my ankle. Call me paranoid but I am getting very very wary of household goods these days...
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