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It's not that they do everything badly. They knead ok, I suppose, although modern wet doughs, of the kind preached by bread gods Richard Bertinet, Dan Lepard and Laura Hart need very little kneading anyway. And the feel of soft sticky dough coalescing to a satiny, elastic mass beneath your fingers is one of the most satisfyingly sensual experiences to be had with your pinny on. And even with the stiffer, more traditional British doughs, which do need a good pummelling – come on Dave, can't you just imagine it's Nigel and let off a bit of pent up frustration?

_{The joy of kneading: Xanthe says breadmakers don't create loaves anywhere near as satisfying as those made by hand (ALAMY)}

As for the rising – yes that's ok too, if achieved a bit fast – but the slower you rise your bread the better the flavour and the texture, and the more stable the dough. It's like the economy – too fast and you risk over doing it, and it'll all collapse in again. Patience, Dave, patience. Surely you've learnt that by now? George must have told you often enough.

^{Telegraph writer Andrew Brown demonstrates how to knead sourdough properly.}

But the real issue with that breadmaker is the in the bake. A nice hot oven gives lots of room for the steam to escape, making for a lovely rich crust, browned and savoury and crunchy. Bake a loaf in an oven space that's barely bigger than itself and that steam stays in – which makes for a light loaf with a pappy texture and a hopelessly soft crust. In fact, astonishingly similar to those lightweight supermarket loaves made by the Chorleywood process, the fast-rising, high moisture retaining method that is still used to produce the bulk of the flabby, pasty bread we eat today.

Sure, set them on the timer function, and, as Dave says, "when you wake up there is this wonderful smell of bread wafting though the kitchen." Just like those supermarkets that Mr C never pops into for a loaf of white sliced, and which pump the smell from the bread ovens to their entrances, bread machines lure with the scent of wholesomeness. But, like supermarket bread it's all promise and no pyjamas. The supermarkets are often baking frozen loaves made elsewhere (beware the difference between homemade and home baked). And your breakfast toast, made with the fruits of the breadmaker, will be, frankly, dull.

So ditch the machine, Dave. Roll up your sleeves and get baking for real. Once you've knocked a few loaves into shape, who knows what you could do for the country.

Still hankering for a bread machine? Read our round-up of the eight best