One: The automatic bed maker.
I hate making the bed. HATE IT. In the name of cleanliness, I insist on stripping the bed every week without fail, washing and drying the sheets, and then... I have to put them back on. EURGH. I usually put it off until 1am when I need to go to bed, then walk upstairs and realise I’d conveniently forgotten to do that particular task until now. Damn.
It’s just too fiddly for me. If it takes longer than a minute to do, I’m not interested. It winds me up having to put the duvet in the duvet cover. WHERE ARE THE CORNERS? WHERE ARE THEY?
Two: The life remote control.
I think everybody’s fantasised about this at some point. I desperately need one as I suffer from terminal foot in mouth syndrome. A conversation with me usually goes like this:
Person: Oh, hello there. How spiffing to see you.
Me: And you! Have you seen that man over there? Isn’t he the ugliest creature you’ve ever seen?
Person: He’s my husband.
Me: Oh bollocks.
With the remote, I could just rewind time and say something incredibly witty and debonair. Let’s see that conversation again:
Me: And you! Have you seen that man over there? Isn't he the ugliest creature you've ever seen?
Person: He’s my husband.
Me: Oh bollocks. (Rewinds time)
Me: (Says something incredibly witty and debonair)
Person: Oh, how incredibly witty and debonair you are!
Three: The truth telling mirror.
In an ideal world, this would be pocket sized and unfold, Transformers style, into a full length mirror. Also, in this ideal world My Little Pony would be real and I would own a herd of the sparkly beggars.
Anyway, you would take this into clothes shop changing rooms with you, and it would tell you unflinchingly whether what you were trying on suited you or not. You can never totally rely on friends after all, because sometimes they don’t want to hurt your feelings by saying, ‘Your arse looks like an enormous sack of fighting cats in that dress.’ You can punch the mirror if it says it, because it doesn’t have feelings! Winner.
Four: The money tree
Because, obviously. Why is science screwing around trying to cure cancer? BREED ME A TREE THAT CAN PAY MY GAS BILL!
Five: The self driving car
This science fiction dream needs to become a reality. Imagine! You could drive it to the pub, and then make it drive you home after you’ve drunk the bar dry of Pina Coladas. The next morning, it can drive you to work while you have a little snooze on the backseat! I am a genius.
Even better, if we can design cars to start going out and doing all our chores for us, I NEED NEVER LEAVE THE HOUSE AGAIN. I can sit in my pyjamas and watch Youtube videos all day. God, it’d be like a utopia. Or... maybe like that Stephen King story where the cars start killing people.
Erm... let’s not do that then.
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