Gadget burglars have left me Scart-broken in Barnes

The tellies, the iPods, the laptops: the burglars took it all. All those shiny gizmos and pointless bleeping thingamajigs that I worked so hard for - gone.

Now look at me: locked inside a cold, gadgetless home having to entertain myself with conversation, word games and books. Stupid, boring books.

The wires hanging out of the wall where the 32-inch plasma TV used to sit are a constant, cruel reminder of the life I once had. I stare at them dewy-eyed and reminisce about those marathon viewing sessions in front of Euro 2008, The Wire and America's Next Top Model. "Memories, like the corners of my mind," I find myself tunelessly blubbing at the redundant Scart leads. "Misty water-coloured memories, of the way we were."

My wife walks in and catches me. "Why are you singing at some wires?" she asks. "Can't you understand how I feel?" I snap. "I've missed Strictly Come Dancing two weeks running! If I want to waste two hours on You Tube I've got to go to an effing internet cafe!"

There's a knock at the door. It's the loss adjuster sent by the insurance firm. "Let me do the talking," my wife insists. While she serves him tea and presents him with crime reports, policy documents and a plethora of receipts from the Apple Store, I just sit there with red, pleading eyes.

We must be quite a double act because he's soon signing off our claim and hurrying out the front door looking disconcerted.

A big van's coming round next week with a load of replacement gear. Then maybe we can start piecing our lives back together, bit by shiny bit. ·