My eyesight isn’t what it was, so I can’t see what’s on the screen unless I choose 24 point bold and even then I wouldn’t like to swear that my typing is perfelcty acucrate. What’s more, the very act of striking a key elicits an involuntary yelp, like that of a kitten whose tail’s been trodden on. As you read the remainder of this column, imagine, if you dare, a plaintive cacophony of abused moggies.

I’m in this wretched state because of a new piece of software I casually plonked on to the hard disc the computer’s, not mine. My plan was to dash off a carefree 3,600 keystrokes describing what fun it was. Except it wasn’t.

You can be philosphical when a program simply refuses to work. You can abandon it, and get on with the rest of your life. But this little monster was the sort that works some of the time. Just when you think you’ve got the hang of it, and you’re on the verge of throwing a triumphant fist in the air, an apologetic raspberry heralds a cute little error message, and you’re back to square one.

I should know by now that the only sensible thing to do with this kind of program is to bury the discs together with the bulky, if misleading, manual in an unmarked corner of the garden.

But you know how it is: you always have this nagging feeling that there is just one more thing you should try. The hours tick by, you try this, you try that, you pray, you curse, your back boingggs like Zebedee’s, and you you know you’re fated to spend the rest of your days yelping like a kitten and listening to raspberries.

If this package is as ghastly as I allege, why don’t I do the decent thing and like a vigilant consumer watchdog bark out its title and expose the publisher? The answer’s quite simple: I can’t put my hand on my heart and swear that it is the program that’s at fault, and not me.

If I’d been on lengthy IT training courses, or had an inkling of what went on under the bonnet of the computer I might have the self-confidence to pass judgement. But as it is, when a program doesn’t work, I am obliged to blame myself.

I’m not like that when it comes to other items I buy. When the new toaster didn’t pop, I didn’t waste a loaf of Home Pride and 14 hours on it. It went straight back to Argos. If we expect other products to work first time and without a hitch, there is no reason why software shouldn’t meet the same high standards. If more of us complained, we’d soon find there would be far less to complain about.

I’m about to send one software house a curt little note in 24 point bold. But first, there just one more little thing I want to try . . .