Please, please, please can somebody get to the life-force of Windows 8, and kill the f**king thing.

Perhaps we need Sigourney Weaver on the case – I’m not sure. What I do know is that, right across the planet, the outcry is loud enough to demand euthanasia. At least. For myself, I’d be at the front of the queue yelling at the top of my voice, “Kill the f**ker – I don’t care how painful it is”.

I am sick of the obvious lack of spare space between the edges of pages and the ridges of bridges. I am pissed off beyond belief with the way in which every time I press enter there is yet another f**king app inviting me to get email alerts in Hebrew, access to Rockmelt, the ability to make musical jam, and 570 bloody ways to explore desktop weather via spotify.

But mainly, I’m dog-tired of being interrupted. Do me a favour William Gates: f**k off to your desert island and leave the rest of us alone.

Go back to Seven. Ignore 8.1 and eleven: dismiss them as horrible mistakes, take the income hit, and stop being such a total see you next Tuesday.

Thank you, and goodnight.