Sunday, April 27, 2008

On the Subject of Potato Peelers

I sometimes wonder if i might not be better off without expectations. No, i'll correct that. I know i'd be better off without expectations. Something that really irritates me is when you get some jerk of a designer who is probably paid thousands to design something with, say, one function which doesn't do its job. The best example and the one closest to my heart, especially today, is the potato peeler. A potatoe peeler as the name suggests, is used to peel potatos. It can also be used to peel apples, courgettes, lemons (with difficulty), thumbs or anything else you fancy. The number of things you can use it to peel does not though detract from its unique and solitary function, i.e., to peel. Now I ask you, what type of brainless crap heads manage to conceive of, design, create prototypes of (presumably), set up an entire production process for with machines and machine minders etc., resulting in the production of a potato peeler that will not peel? I've got a box of them. One function. To peel. One thing they don’t do, peel. Where’s the sense in that? One of my dreams is to be seated before the guy who designed one of these potato peelers. Just to see what type of person he is. To be face to face with a real bonafide jerk. Another thing is safety scissors, so safe, they don’t cut. And recently a tape measure where the centimeters were about half a millimeter out and from Ikea, 3 alarm clocks which all run at three different speeds so have three different times. Nice design, shame it doesn't bloody work. While i'm on the subject, the weather man made a right cockup of the forecast again, didn't he? Rain they said; all day. They said it last night and they said it again this morning. But this morning we woke up to bright sunshine (well not really, with baby Tabatha it was a bit earlier than that, but you know what i mean). All morning there was bright sunshine and now it's a starry night with high altitude winds and milky ways and shooting stars and the works. Where, trying not to labour the point here, is the sense in having a bloody forecast in the first place if you're not going to get it even slightly right? Might as well not bother. Might as well just curl up in a corner and do some rocking Mr. weatherman. Doh!!!Right, enough of this gay banter, bed.

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