When in Chrome

Oh, God.

Right, does anyone else have to deal with this sort of thing? My mother and I despair - we really do.

The oven needed cleaning, it was full of ming and smeg (these are technical terms) and so mother and I went to the supermarket and bought a canister of Mr. Muscle Oven Cleaner ("Loves the jobs you hate" - I'm not sure it really does, I think it's just chemical waste).

Anyway, on the front of said product, it reads "POWERFUL CLEANING PRODUCT - read instructions before using!" On the back, the legend reads "Read all instructions before removing lid."

The oven is a huge thing, really chic and very expensive. It has a manual with it which contains instructions - one would have suspected one would read it. In fact, one would suspect my father would have read it about a million times before even turning the oven on. My father is the man who, when confronted with a webpage which reads "Stage 1 : Click Continue" and a button marked "Continue" and nothing else, rings me up to ask what to do. And after I have said "Click the continue button, dad" proceeds to spend five minutes ensuring I fully understand exactly where said button is on the page.

Okay, so, the oven and cleaner.

Dad took the top off, opened the door, whipped out all the chrome shelves and stacked them on the floor, and covered everything in Mr. Muscle. As the room fills with noxious fumes, he sits down with the oven manual and reads it.

I saunter in. "Dad, have you read the instructions?" "Ah, well, no, son - but I had an oven cleaner once before. You just do that with it."

"Did you wear gloves?" I ask, reading the first of the admonishments. "Ah, well, no, son - but it's okay." "No, dad, it's really not - it contains formaldehyde. Look, it says in case of accidental contact, seek medical advice."

"Ah, be reight."

I read onwards. "Dad, what are those shelves made of?" "Chrome." "Chrome? Chrome as in the chrome listed in this list of things which should not be cleaned with this product?" "Ah, you don't want to pay any attention to that." "Dad, it specifically abdjures one from using it on chrome . . ."

Mum comes in - "Jim, what are you doing? Did you wear gloves?" "Don't worry woman, 'twill be fine. Oh . . ." He shows me the bit of the manual he has just read;

"DO NOT USE MR MUSCLE ON YOUR OVEN AS IT CONTAINS CHEMICALS THAT MAY DAMAGE IT!"

Right, what is this? I wouldn't mind - but in any other circumstance my father would read every last thing which formed part of a series of instructions. We got him on eBay last night - five bloody hours. I've installed software with him - it's all I can do to stop him reading the license agreements. He counts the pieces and dowels of MFI furniture, for God's sake.

What is this with oven cleaner? Do we feel it's such a low-tech system it needs no guidance?

Heads up, people - anything which contains chemicals I cannot pronounce and which I am sure are used to stop dead bodies from decaying is something I really want to use responsibly. There was a woman who lost her arm to Mr. Muscle - dad was cheerfully regaling us with this tale as he sluiced the carcenogenic materials off the oven and myself and mum tried to stop the dog licking them off the floor. "Ah, she must have done something wrong."

"Yes, Jim," says mum, "she didn't wear gloves. Put some gloves on!"

Dad's response in all of this? "It says oven cleaner - you would expect you could clean your oven with it."

My response? "You don't clean your teeth with shampoo." He stayed silent - now I come to think of it, there is a certain foamy quality to his smile.

Darknight