In the dark history of human invention, there have been countless diabolical machines created to induce pain and suffering. The Guillotine and Rack spring to mind. There are others, untitled, that pull your fingernails out or cut bits of you off. (Usually the more important bits... but then they are diabolical). My knowledge of such devices is thankfully limited.

I only bring this up because I have a new nomination for the list... The Tin Opener.

You may think I’m over stating the case for the humble opener. Its inventor has not, as yet, reached the levels of infamy of say one; R Oppenheimer… but I am not talking about any old tin opener… Oh no, I’m talking CZECH TIN OPENERS.

When I first arrived in Prague I realized Czechs did things differently when it comes to tin cans. For a start not too many foodstuffs were available in these containers back then.

I wrote a scene in a movie where a little old woman is killed after being knocked out of a tree by a tin of soup, (its funny, honestly!) I was told however Czech soup doesn’t come in tins. Ahhh, but it’s a good joke! So I got the art dept to rustle me up a few fake Soup labels and all was well with the world.

Course, we didn’t have to open any of the buggers. If we had I think the film might never have been finished.

My problem, and I know it’s me, is I simply can’t get my Czech tin opener to work.

There is an old device laying in wait for me in the cutlery draw. A fiendish cross between a hole punch and corkscrew. It’s basically a rounded wooden handle with a short hooked blade, a wheel and a spring? Why on earth it needs a spring I will never know.

I first crossed paths with this devilish contraption one lunchtime years back. I had a tin of beans. (They do them over here thank goodness, Heinz too... Is there any other?)

I remember being terribly hungry and completely desperate for a ‘beans on toast’ fix. All that stood in my way was the tin, unfortunately all I had to open it was this very strange machine.

Now I wouldn't count myself naturally gift in things mechanical. There was a kid at my school who took a Landrover apart when he was twelve. Now that’s impressive, if a touch dangerous, especially when his Dad found out. But what I do have plenty of is bloody mindedness, a most useful quality in just about every situation. So I set about my task with total confidence. How very silly of me.

It started off with some general sparring. Simply trying to work out which end of the thing I was meant to use. Once I made my choice it all went down hill. The opener would grab but not grip. Score but not puncture. It skipped off the adamantine surface of the tin as if it were made of diamonds. The wheel labored to find purchase.

An hour later I sat huddled, a broken man in the corner. Still hungry, my knuckles bleeding, the tin defiantly unopened but heavily scarred. Deep gouges in the metal, the label ripped off. Dented, bashed and now nestling in the book self across the room where it was finally hurled in an act of desperate defeat.

That was my one and only attempt to use this diabolical invention. It is still in the draw and maybe one day someone will show me how it works. In the meantime I got a nice new, modern tin opener, with instructions.

As for the beans on toast incident… I had a boiled egg instead.