We must have a toaster
that’s possessed by the fiery torments of hell. Not only does it blast the poor
twin slices of Kingsmill 50/50 with reckless abandon despite the dial cautiously
hovering between two and 3 (well regarded as optimum toast) but the emergency
toast ejector button is stubbornly out of action. Evil’s name is indeed Russell
Hobbs.
It felt like a scene from
Final Destination 107, as everything conspired against me to try to threaten my
life... It was either going to be death by fire when it eventually bursts into
flames; imminent hurling from acrid burnt toast fumes – well known as one of
the worst stinks known to man, probably closely behind burning dog deposit;
electrocution from rapid unplugging of the power cord in an attempt to halt the
toaster’s reign of charring terror and finally, maybe most abhorrently, half
cooked toast, with a soft, cold top that doesn't even melt your choice of spread-on
substance. I just couldn't win.
Making toast is so
fraught with disappointment that I rarely set foot once more unto the breach to
produce it. I was only manning this gift from Beelzebub to feed my poor
husband-to-be, who has a stomach bug which even the Northern counties will have
picked up on by now with the fuss he’s making (and he’d be the first to admit
that). The only thing going for toast that it is indeed so dull and uninspiring
that it does appear to settle a queasy tum.
I purchased this toaster
with its matching kettle and partner-in-crime for a quite frankly hideous sum compared
to the prospect of buying the perfectly harmless and really quite approachable looking
basic kettles and toasters in pure, innocent white, as opposed to these
deceitful chrome-plated monstrosities, who never stay clean, picking up grease
stains as if from the air throughout the night, they could quite legitimately
be undertaking midnight frolicking in the greasy wok – giggling away like the
gremlins from, well, Gremlins. The tall, lanky sidekick kettle takes inordinately
long to boil water – it would be quicker to boil a cup of water sticking it under
the bonnet of the car and taking it for a spin across the moors, dispersing a
little kettle-induced frustration in the process.
Overreaction to a trivial
matter? I think not. All I needed was my green tea, I’m obviously quite a calm,
balanced person to enjoy the benefits of such a beverage (what a brilliant ruse
it is!).
The question now is what
to with this now condemned toaster? I’m a stickler for not wasting anything (no
matter how Satanic) and prefer to recycle into something useful... for example,
we’re doing up the garden... maybe the neat little trays could host some delightfully
calming lavender watering it via the crumb tray, to make up for angst this machine
has been responsible for. That’s karma for you!
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