FIXING THE NESTLE 3000

"Do you know how to... wrestle this...off..." asked Paul, a colleague (and now pool partner as it happens) of mine. He was grappling with the Nestle 3000.

The Nestle 3000 is the clunking, whirling coffee machine that sits in the kitchen making grating noises and plopping out espressos and cappuccinos and frothy-sloppy-skinny-whinny- cino-beano-mocha-locca-chocca-lattes at the click of a button. It combines brown slop with white slop to do this.

"I don't, sorry Paul," said I. We then set about figuring out how to change the waste container. The Nestle 3000 does not make this easy.

First you have to turn a green key to swing open the console. Then, you have to yank out the panel with the drip-tray, which is naturally a pool of cold brown stewy liquid that drips everywhere. Paul artfully carried it over to the sink while I pulled out the coffee-waste-tub from the bowels of the machine.

It felt like I was ripping its heart out. Pretty soon it occurred to me that it was actually more like removing its kidneys, but nonethless I unclipped it and angled the tub carefully out of the Nestle 3000.

It's exactly what you might imagine - a blue tub full of crumbling coffee-waste. I rumbled it into the bin.

Then, like every team of highly skilled-surgeons, we put the whole thing back together.

"What's this?" said Paul, pointing at a laminated poster. It was a set of instructions on using a second yellow plastic key to change the waste-container without accidentally switching the Nestle 3000 off and disrupting its cycle.

"Oops," I said, closing the console.

Nothing. The screen was blank. I sighed.

I just can't understand why people don't drink tea.

It took ages for Paul and me to figure it out and then switch the thing on again. Then it had to boot up, which it did by beeping like a reversing truck, and happily spraying coffee everywhere.

Teabag, teapot, milk, kettle, cup. Done. Not this awful effluent that comes slurping down those plastic tubes to the sound of internal plastic cogs and motors.

"Thanks Matt," said Paul, sliding his cup underneath the nozzle. "I guess now I've got something else to put on my CV."

I smiled weakly. Then I made myself a cup of Twinings Afternoon blend and went back to my desk.