It's Sunday afternoon, I'm about to play badminton. I'm pumped, stretched, psyched and I'm listening to the training montage from Rocky IV.
I feel invincible. But I have a weakness, an Achilles heel. I cannot play badminton with damp hands. And that's why before the big game there's another match - in the sports hall ghetto where the real men fight - the bogs.
I square up to my opponent. It doesn't look impressive. I size it up. No button, that gives it a point straight away. I serve with a taunt about Dyson airblades that the Newlec can't possibly hit back. 1 all. "Newlec Electrical." I think that's probably a tautology, unless the "lec" is short for election. I doubt that. This is about heat. This is about pressure. Votes don't count here. No democracy. 2-1 to me.
Next serve goes to the Newlec and I'm immediately floored by the roar it makes as it fires up. I know it's to intimidate me but by god it works. What a sound. An easy point for the Newlec. 2 all.
The next point goes to me as the Newlec fails to reach a decent temperature. Lukewarm might beat a newbie to the hand dryer review game but not an old pro like me. It's 3-2 to me and I'm starting to smell victory.
As the drying time drags on I know I've secured my lead with another point. Newlec keeps roaring but now it's not working - I know its game and I know that this dryer is all mouth and no trousers. I'm taunting it now, "Go on impress me!" but it's all over. The Newlec has stopped roaring and gone silent. I know its guilty secret. It stands there looking embarrassed as I show it my hands. It can see the droplets on there. Water it should have seen off. Bad luck kid.
As a final insult I slowly and deliberately wipe my hands on my trousers in front of it. If the Newlec can't finish the job I sure as hell can.
Nice try kid. But you're gonna have to try a bit harder to best this old man. See you next season. If you dare.
Incidentally I lost at badminton.
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