Dear Mr Dyson,
You may remember my letter from last year referring to your Air Blade hand dryer and the unsubstantiated claims about its ability to dry your hands in 10 seconds.
After a recent visit to Cribbs Causeway in Bristol, I happened upon another of your innovative products, the Dyson Airblade Tap hand dryer.
Before I recount my experiences with the aforementioned futuristic cleansing/drying accessory, perhaps we should analyse the name itself. Air blade and tap. Air and water. Surely the two ingredients in a recipe for disaster.
Of course, I was unaware of what the device was when I came to use it after taking my ease in the lavatory of this illustrious west country shopping centre. I just thought it was a tap, so applied some soap from the dispenser and stuck my hands under the tap.
Imagine my surprise as my cupped hands were subjected to a sudden blast of warm air, expelling the small gobbet of soap onto the middle of my chest. Unaware of the destination of the soap, I reacted by moving my hands away from the gusty source, to be met with a stream of tepid water, or to be more exact, tepid water over one hand, the other still demanding a forceful blast of Dyson wind.
Before I knew it, my face was sprayed with tepid water accompanied by a full force gale, the result being the few remaining shards of soap gel flying up into my eyes. It was akin to a scene from the film ‘A Perfect Storm’.
Except that as I staggered out of the gent’s, I didn’t look a bit like George Clooney or Mark Wahlberg. The futuristic Airblade tap had also managed to propel a considerable amount of water into my midriff.
No, definitely not George or Mark E Mark, more middle aged man with reddened eyes, a greasy stain on my shirt and a massive wet patch over the crotch of my trouser, as if I’d copiously pissed my pants.
A passer by, looking very sympathetic, sidled over and pressed a pound coin into my hand.
“Get yourself a cup of tea, love,” she whispered, “ and I hope you find somewhere for the night.”
The Rural Spaceman