We’ve all seen it; those kitchens where they’ve caved in to the idea of environmental friendliness by combining a half-arsed version of “but halogen bulbs are more earth-friendly than the ones that were banned” with “I wanna be like Grand Designs”, and come up with 16 “footlights” in the cupboard plinths.
So Boris and Jane have decided to install perhaps 48 bulbs – a good number in the Feng Shui system of vivid imagination – in their new low-energy kitchen in Peckham Rye, equivalent to many times the 100W tungsten bulb they used back in the 1990s.
Now, these bulbs are absolute sods to change. And should they ever be used as plinth-lights, they get hot enough to give an involuntary nose-job and whisker trim to curious cats, leaving Tibbles looking like Hercule Poirot. And then the instructions say we’re not allowed to touch the glass on pain of a future haunted by the ghost of Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen, the human version of chintz.
Which all brings me back to Argos, and a recent light fitting purchase which came with a “thing”, but no explanation in the instructions:
It looks like a spare external stopper for a hot water bottle when La Raccoon moves from Central France to the Swiss Alps for skiing, a device used in some way in the turkey-masturbation industry for birds which are not well-equipped, or even a tool of the fluffer’s trade?
Or is it a love-aid which Sally Bercow uses to pick up John by his head when she wants a ‘Buckingham kiss’?
No. It’s actually a device to avoid interminable finger scrabbling when trying to extract a dead halogen bulb.
Now, how do I avoid losing the damned thing?