I am just getting over the trauma of being carted off to a nearby refuse plant and almost crushed.
The reason for the misunderstanding was how well I looked dressed as a Coffee Machine. I’d been taking part in the project of a radical but as yet unknown artist, who was asking people like me to emulate machinery in order to prove just how easy it is to have the art of technology imitating life.
It was my politeness that swung it as, unlike the machine positioned next to me, I was able to give some nuanced accent to the’ ‘thank you for your custom’ and ‘please insert exact change’.
It was particularly uncomfortable to accommodate all those tubes but I do my best to further struggling artists.
The dispensing of the ground coffee was the hardest test to pass as the water had to be so hot as to bring tears to my eyes.
Standing there was so tiring, I fell asleep and when the exhibition was over no-one thought to tell me. The company that provided the real machines had asked the local council to recycle the machines as they were not in a good enough state to repair anymore.
I only avoided a crushing demise when one of the operatives wanted a Chocomilk and heard me scream in pain as the chocolate melted into my underpants.
After he’d gotten over the shock, the bloke helped extricate me from the mechanisms and complemented me on the quality of my beverages.