Dear fridge designer…

Thank you for designing me a fridge which produces a loud and incessant beep when the door has been open for more than 30 seconds, and which cannot be disabled. Apparently you think I am too stupid to close the door properly; and apparently you also think that either I am so slatternly that I never clean the fridge, or that I am so Aggie-and-Kim-ishly efficient that I can perform this task in less than half a minute.

I’m a small man, in many ways, and if it be my decision to spend the next few years of my spare time tracking down who you are, and where you live, so that I may break into your house one night, conceal myself in your bathroom, wait until you have a shower, and then press my face against the glass shouting “Beep beep, fucking beep” as you scrub your nads, then so be it.

Did you perhaps also design my tumble dryer, which plays a little six-note jingle repeatedly and unstoppably when its cycle has completed, letting me know that my clothes are now in exactly the state that I require them to be, merely not yet in the right place? You shall, it is true, escape a suitable punishment for this, but this is largely because my ire is more directed at the landlady who has prohibited us from drying clothes over her expensive carpets, but done nothing in three months to resolve the fact that the basement is so humid that hung out clothes simply do not dry properly there, thus forcing me to use this appallingly wasteful machine in the first place.

Beeps are fine things, when requested. But there seems to be a trend in modern technology design to impose beeps, jingles, and other cheerful warnings of how stupid one is. The function of a fridge is to keep things cool. The function of a tumble dryer is to wreck the environment by using grotesque amounts of energy to blast clothes into being in the state which they would naturally achieve in a not immoderate amount of time by themselves—blithely indifferent landladies notwithstanding. How I particularly apply that function is my business, and to prod me incessantly for not doing so in exactly the rather short-sighted manner which you consider correct is not a design feature, it is a pain in the beeping arse.