Review: Oven Pride Deep Cleaner: slaying the beast in its lair

###We shall go to Berlin, and slay the facist beast in its Lair

(Interpretation: We shall go into the kitchen and clean that bloody oven
Jo Stalin, On Cleaning, May 1944

As you clean in your kitchen there is, no doubt, one area you shy away from. One area you pass over with the scourer, knowing that a £1 scourer, pinnacle of human achievement though it is, is not going to be enough.

Perhaps it is under the fridge, or under the sink. Somewhere tucked away, festering. For us, dear reader, it is the oven. When we moved in, our oven was spotless, and we vowed to keep it that way. Alas, dastardly entropy means everything moves to chaos. As planets spiral through boring solar systems, so hateful dirt conspires against us, by sticking to oven doors and oven floors.

Whenever we cleaned, we always had to silently append the annoying caveat ‘well apart from the oven of course!’ to our phrases.

It was annoying as it took the shine of phrases we have to say more and more often. Phrases like ‘What do you mean you no longer love me? I have just cleaned the entire kitchen’ or ‘I know how we can put the spice back, we can stick some soul 2 soul on and clean the kitchen together!’

Bad times.

With it being Christmas, we decided to ‘Do a Stalin’, remind Mrs Gin – the wife – what she was married to and slay the beast in it’s lair.

We decided to bring out the big guns for this one, and splash out over a fiver on this.

Oven Pride Deep Cleaner.

Any cleaning product with ‘deep’ in the title is automatically off to a good start. This, we are told, is not for dickhead novice cleaners like the moron we used to live with. Don’t get us started on him! Seriously, though, don’t. Prick.

This is for proper people, people who take satisfaction, albeit grim satisfaction, from cleaning underneath the compost bin. From cleaning the bits out of the cutlery drawer, from cleaning, full stop

This product packaging is amazing. It comes with lots of what looked like ominous warnings in big fonts, which naturually enough we did not read. It came with gloves and a plastic bag that looked like an essential component of a serial killer’s arsenal. You could dispose of body parts in this, with no hassle at all. We loved it immediately

We love serial killers. Fred West is the best. The thing we love about Fred is. Sorry. Let’s not go down that route. Not because it’s Christmas (bah fucking humbug) but because it would take us 10000 words to describe what we loved about Messers West and Bundy and this is not the place.

You will note, dear reader, that whilst we strived repeatedly to claim that we do not aspire to become rapists, the same has conspicuously not been said about serial killing.

An oversight? Or something else entirely?

This was the horror of the fascist lair – the oven- that we had to tackle:


We went straight in. Up and at ’em. Boyed by the no nonsense Oven Pride Deep Cleaner, given confidence by the thickness of the plastic bag and the severity of the warnings on the packet (which Mrs Gin read and, surprise surprise, nagged and nagged and nagged us about)

Only joking darling!

Oven Pride Deep Cleaner comes with its own plastic gloves. What a message that is.

“Fuck you, after all, Domestos” this is saying.

“Think you’re hard do you? King of the cleaning aisle? Well fuck you. I (it is saying) am the real beast. I am the hannibal lecter of the cleaning aisle. You need protective clothing to even touch me.”

Naturally we did not wear the gloves, we put them in the back kitchen to keep for best.

We put the oven trays in the bag and put the liquid in.

Oh my days, the glory. Sadly I cannot vouch for the accuracy of my simile, yet, but it was like dissolving a body. It was wonderful. Dirt (sin) fell of the metal (skin) and congealed, thick and blood coloured in the bag immediately.

The instructions said to leave it overnight. We started the clean up late in the evening so we went to bed happy with the thought of the trays stewing in the acid downstairs.

We slept and, yes, we dreamt and in the morning we awoke and yawned and stretched and found that the bed was empty.

The next day, disaster! After waking at dawn, I was waiting till morn to wash, so that I could photograph the dirt properly. But when I came downstairs, I saw this:

What a terrible sight!

Mrs Gin was hard at work in the kitchen, cleaning as she sometimes does.

You will note I had to use MS Paint to cunningly obscure Mrs Gin’s face,

Panicking, I grabbed my camera:

I wanted to tell her I had a great denouement planned, that I needed to stage some photos with ketchup and kitchen knives and the gloves kindly supplied by Oven Pride, but I said nothing. To be honest, she doesn’t really know about bleach and tonic, and sometimes it is easier to bite your tongue than explain what, to others, are strange ideas.

As you can see, the results are very impressive indeed. It is far and away the greatest cleaning product we have ever reviewed. Not only does it actually work wonderfully, it is easy to use and makes you feel strangely alive. Slaying the beast (the oven) was trivially easy. We are looking around now, looking to see what else annoys us, what else we can use this on next.

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