The Man and I have diametrically opposed views on the design of potato-peelers.

I favour an ergonomic model with a large and curved handle, lifetime guaranteed blade, and smooth, inwards-moving peel action. I pull my peeler towards me whilst holding the potato in the other hand, and voila; the potato is denuded and my arthritic wrists are in no pain. The Man on the other hand is left-handed and gifted with faultless bones. He favours a slim peeler, designed with no ergonomic consideration in mind and tailored to an outwards-moving, purposefully masculine peeling-action. He pushes his peeler away from him whilst holding the potato in the other hand, and voila; the potato is denuded through his efficient utensil-wielding skills.

I hardly need to say that consequently we can neither of us bear – or use – the others’ peeler and both privately think our individual peeling style (and implement) is the superior one. Indeed, when I moved in, I naively announced that once he had tried my peeler, he ‘would never again return to the Dark Side.’

Thus today, when pondering whether or not we had time to prepare our fish pie before hurrying to the Cinema to see Stardust, I challenged The Man to a peel-off. We took 3 potatoes of roughly equivalent size each, and rabidly set about peeling them faster than the other. I regret to say that in this contest The Man’s supreme competitiveness gave him the edge, and as in most games, he won. I was also irked to realise that my peeling style is not as tidy as his; observe the neat pile of peelings by his peeler as compared to the rather straggly heap beside mine.

Regardless of these trivialities, (his peelings being neater and his peeling speed marginally faster) I am not swayed in my position and shall continue to use and enjoy my peeler.