Time bandits have hijacked my fridge

There should be a word — do the Germans have one? I bet the Germans have one — to describe the emotion of just having missed delivery of a fridge.

Say you are moving out of your flat and need to replace the fridge. Say Dixons' automated delivery system has promised to deliver one in an allocated four-hour slot "between 12.15 and ... 4.15".

And say you cross London to take it and arrive home on the very DOT of 12.15 to find a surly pink slip announcing that You Were Out, with 12.10 scribbled in the box marked Arrival Time. They came early, they naffed off, and they left you the evidence as a great two fingers to natural justice.

First, you shout: "NO!!"

Then you telephone the heavily automated advice line and navigate your way to a human being. You explain the mistake. Their van is full of fridge, and not 10 minutes away. They must — and you are cut off.

You call back. You reach a human being. They are only 15 minutes away. They must turn back. You rage. Then you wheedle. "I have to call the depot." The system is designed to prevent you making direct contact with anyone who could actually help you. "Sorry, they won't come back. Your slot was 12.02 to 16.02."

"12.02 to 16.02?" you blether, numb with sadness. "Are you seriously expecting me to believe your projected delivery times move in two-minute increments?"

"It's what I've got here."

And you realise there is nothing you can do. We are powerless before death and Dixons. There are only the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.

There's a German word, incidentally, for the emotion that most readers, and all fridge-freezer delivery men, will be feeling about now — and it's the one that starts with Sch

* I strongly approve of Walkers Crisps' "Do Us A Flavour" campaign. Following nominations from the public, you can now buy Builder's Breakfast, Fish and Chips, Crispy Duck and Hoi Sin, Onion Bhaji, Cajun Squirrel and Chilli & Choc flavours. Yum. As well as celebrating our diversity, it bears witness to man's indomitable spirit of discovery and invention. Much better than The X Factor.

* By the time you read this I will be — God and Iberia willing — in Colombia for the Hay Festival (or should it be the Jé Festival?) in Cartegena. Martin Amis and Salman Rushdie (right) are headlining, and if either one gets up on stage
and starts jamming with Asian Dub Foundation
I promise to take a photograph.