My life of filth

Last week, I made a rather distressing discovery. Brace yourself, because it’s pretty nasty. I have, it appears, been living in filth. Yes, filth. It’s shocking news, I’ll admit, but no-one was more astonished than I was. And what could have brought about such a revelation? Well, this harbinger of torment has a name. And its name is Dyson.

Yes, I have purchased my very first Dyson vacuum cleaner. To be specific, I have purchased a Dyson Animal, in the hope that it will help me to clear up after my own animal, the adorable (but very orange and with a tendency to moult everywhere) Molly. Sure, it cost more than I got when I sold my old car, but it’s big and it’s shiny and I just had to have one.

Having done the obligatory bit of online research, I wandered down to my local John Lewis store and had a look at the different models. I wanted an Animal and I wanted a cylinder version (rather than an upright), which helpfully narrowed it down to one, the DC-39. Nevertheless, the lady manning the display stand insisted that I try out a couple of different ones, so that I could make an informed choice. (And possibly so that the cleaners could knock off early…)

As I wandered around the department store doing the hoovering, checking to make sure that nobody I knew was lurking around, I observed to the lady that rather than cleaning the whole house, it might just be easier to vacuum the dog. Rather disturbingly, Dyson have already thought of this, and the Animal comes with an optional dog brush attachment. I passed on that, but did take my DC-39. Here is it…


When I got home, I couldn’t wait to give the thing a try, so unpacked it from the ton and a half of cardboard that it was wrapped in and got to work on the living room carpet. After I’d vacuumed about a square metre, I made two observations:

1. This bit of the carpet was now a very different colour from the bits around it; and

2. The cylinder on the Dyson was now almost FULL of dust, dirt and dog hair.

In those few minutes, I realised that I was not the person I thought I was. I’d imagined that I was reasonably neat, tidy and kept a clean house. But no. I am living in filth. I am surrounded by detritus. My house is quite possibly being held together by cobwebs and dog slobber. Thank you, Dyson.

By the time I’d hoovered the whole house (I could hardly stop now, could I?), I had emptied the capacious cylinder on the Animal THREE times! And when I did the vacuuming again a couple of days later (the in-laws were about to arrive), I had to empty it twice more. And it was pretty much all – you’ve guessed it – orange dog hair. Perhaps I should have bought the brush attachment after all, to head this all off at the source.

Talking of attachments, the DC-39 comes as standard with a whole host of different gadgets. I don’t know what they all do, and probably won’t actually use any of them, but they do look very impressive. Like I could clean the space shuttle, or something. (This isn’t a review, but the way, so don’t expect any kind of helpful analysis.)

Here’s one of the attachments, which looks suspiciously like the thing that’s already on the Animal, but smaller. Check out the rotating bristles, which distinguish the Animal from its lesser Dyson brethren.


Here’s one of the other attachments. It’s about two feet long, with the first bit made of plastic and the second bit made of flexible rubber.

Another attachment

 I daren’t even think about what this could be for. A very different kind of filth, possibly.

3 thoughts on “My life of filth

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