Only a day away, but I don't think I can wait any longer. No, really, I can't. We're not supposed to go so long like this. Not today anyway. It's unnatural. And I'm a man as well, it's not good for us. I've got needs, I have an appetite. If I don't get it...God knows what'll happen. Even the guys in the Big Brother house get some relief. What about me!

I've gone a month without it. The hottest month, by the way since 1914, if the record books are right. It's not testimony to my survival skills either, more the primitive way I live, that's helped me cope. But I've found the end of my tether now, had enough.

Please deliver my fridge on the day you say you will. You don't know what it means to me. I want to stand in my kitchen on Wednesday, the proud owner of a sleek fridge that's packed to the gunnels with all the stuff I've not had for weeks: milk (skimmed, semi-skimmed, full fat - really I don't care); cheese, soft, hard, smelly; yoghurts packed into the door compartments; oh, and Butter, only convalasecents in 19th century novels live on dry toast, not 20th century office workers, waking up late. I want to hear a humming fridge on Wednesday evening happily cooling all of the stuff I've crammed it with.

Come on, Delivery people, make me happy.