I want to take a sledgehammer to my new coffee machine. It works very well. No complaints there. It’s just that I can’t bear the way it addresses me, or the way it refers to itself.

I had no such bother with my old machine, which was made by the same company. You put the beans in somewhere, selected what you wanted – long, short, strong, weak etc – pressed the button and Bob was your uncle. A tiny screen indicated your selections and how the process was progressing. Every now and then it issued a command such as “empty grounds” or “fill tank”. Clear, if terse. But that’s how I liked it. That’s what I want from machines: terse clarity. This machine never let me down so, when the time came, I chose the new version by the same manufacturer. I’m good like that, loyal.

The new one has a bigger, colour screen, showing little pictures of different coffee options. Why? It was fine how it was before. Clear, terse words in monochrome, sans pictures. I was good with this. What desire do they think they are satisfying with their new all-colour screen? Do they focus group this? If so, surely no one has ever said: “You know what would be nice? How about a lovely colour screen with little pictures of different cups of coffee, because I’ve never been quite sure what an espresso looks like compared with a cappuccino?”

Until such time as the all-important, all-colour screen goes blank, rendering the machine obsolete, I can work with it. But what I really can’t bear is the banter. It doesn’t actually speak to me – although sure as anything the next generation of coffee machines will do just that. But the cheery little messages on the screen grind my gears like nobody’s business. A “Hello!” when I switch it on is OK, I suppose. But not “I’ll use some water to heat everything up”. Who’s I? You’re not a person, you’re a machine.

Worse still are the congratulatory messages which pop up once the coffee’s made. “You’re like a pro” is the one that had me searching my toolbox for a hammer. Also, “Hope you love it!”, “Just the way you like it!” (how does it know?) and “This is my best one yet!”. Stop it. Just stop it. Turn this claptrap off or I’ll just drink tea instead.

Adrian Chiles is a broadcaster, writer and Guardian columnist