Bad Kettle

I am fairly low down on the financial food chain, which means I have never had time for expensive gizmos and gadgets. Until the Kettle King 3000 came along, that is.

This baby does everything you could ever want from a kitchen appliance and more. Made of three alloyed metals, none of which would have been invented had NASA not gone into space, this silver monster has more flashing lights and switches than a Star Trek bridge. You can programme it not only to filter limescale, but also to moisterise your water if it is too dry, dehydrate it if gets too wet, and order more water from the Internet when you run out. It is not only cordless but powerless – it boils water through the application of powerful magnets and crystals. And it even has a removable drip tray at the bottom so you can be confident that your hot water is low in fat. It remains the only kettle personally approved by both Mystic Meg and George Foreman.

I should have been happy. But when summer rolled around and my thoughts turned to cold drinks on the veranda, the Kettle King 3000 began to mope. At first, I couldn't be sure…did the kettle rotate away from me on its base when I entered the room? Was it deliberately splashing me when I poured out cups of tea? Was it the kettle that put a dead fox in my bed? Questions, questions. It was absurd, and I chalked it up to paranoia.

Until it began stalking me at work.

I suspect it was jealous of Katey Kettle, the slimline model I was using in the office. But one day I found Katey bound and gagged with a threatening note wedged in her spout. Things had gone too far, and in the end I smashed the Kettle King 3000 to bits with a lumphammer. It was a mercy killing.

But now every time I spill coffee down my shirt I remember the Kettle King 3000 and shudder.

Remember, you could be next.