The Robot Vacuum

Set it and forget it. Your floors will sparkle while you sip oat milk and contemplate your superiority over manual labour. It maps your home like a benevolent spy and returns to its dock with the quiet dignity of a butler who has seen things.

It will eat a charging cable, wedge itself under the sofa, and die with 4% battery while staring at a single dust bunny it has been circling for eleven minutes. You will still own a broom. You will use the broom more than the robot.

Buy one if you enjoy watching a £400 coaster navigate around a crumb with the urgency of a hungover intern. Otherwise, save your money and your dignity.