Sweep It Under The Carpet

It may look like a standard vacuum cleaner. In fact, neatly poised in its upright state, against a finely polished hardwood floor, backdropped by some carefully chosen display items and essential cocktail wares, this hoover suggests that life we're all striving for. It purrs, "Look at what I've done to this home and I'd love to do it to yours. I'd love to caress it into  the same smiling, humming domestic bliss." The bastard is lying to your face. 

The swine you see before you played no part in the clean floor it rests on. In fact, should it move from its spot, it would vomit whatever god awful mess it had finally, after near endless backbreaking  to-ing and fro-ing, deemed to wheeze up into its incontinent paper bladder it feebly tries not to prolapse out of its rear. Nothing is more frustrating than a machine that fails to do what's it's designed to, failing to fulfill its one earthly function.

Every component of The World's Worst Hoover (TWWH) is poorly designed. The lever, that is supposed to adjust the height setting so it can fail to grapple with either a hard surface or a carpet, barely raises or lowers the limp-wristed bristles; so they collectively have a fey attitude toward the dirt as if it's an affront it their very existence to get involved.

 

Infuriatingly, a passing butterfly must have landed on the hook the power cord wrapped around causing it to snap off. Even whilst stored TWWH made a mess by flailing its woefully short cable length from its temporary mooring around the suction (I use the word generously) tube.  Storage became yet more farcical  with the complete failure of the designers to consider ensuring that the built housing for the "useful" additional cleaning attachments was both correctly sized and there was sufficient space available for all of them.

Note how the tubes Leaning -Tower- Of-Pisa-it away from the main body of TWWH

The suction tube itself was of course also woefully short. The limited cable length meant that the not-cleaning of each room involved repeated changing of power outlets to be able to not-clean or let's find the positive here,  successfully redistribute dirt and dust around the flat. You may also have noticed that the plug pins are made of inferior metal making necessary to readjust each before they would fit back into a wall socket. 

 

TWWH's lack of conviction, lack of enthusiasm or perhaps total lack of self-belief sunk to such low ebbs of despair that it became necessary to bypass the bristles altogether.  Detaching the suction hose from the lower casing meant there was an option to apply the ill-fitting attachments. Seeing as doing this meant listening to a depressed sigh of air lethargically huff out of the join the only option was to apply the tube to the surface in need of cleaning. Remember that both the tube and the cable were too short, so this meant getting down on hands and knees to scrape away at the dust and hope that something made its way up and into the inbuilt colostomy bag. This is where TWWH displayed its skills, infuriatingly either flouncing itself to the floor falling sideways and crashing noisely to the ground or more often, smack itself against its user. I hated this bloody machine. 

TWWH's colostomy bag

TWWH's had one final spiteful trick to play. One that got it so close to being thrown threw the window, down to the concrete four floors below. Perhaps it was its dying wish or death rattle but the little shit somehow found energy to suck in on itself so that the suction tube became its own black hole, collapsing in on itself at its base where it met the body of the cleaner. TWWH was never able to successfully draw one fleck of dust into its bag but it had the power to implode the diameter of its own plastic. What a git.

The bristles holding the dust they will merrily distribute back onto the next carpet they meet

Getting irritated with an inanimate object is made the more infuriating because you can't reason with it, you can't beat the crap out of it even if you want to. There's only one way to win. Get rid of the damn thing. That'll show it. It was a satisfying day when TWWH was frogmarched out of the apartment and down to the bins. There it was made to stand in the corner, in the bin, shamed for all to see until collection day. TWWH may you rot in landfill hell for all eternity.

Waste

I know how he feels