Hmmmm. My generous offer of myriad meats and fish is turned down for a burger. Naturally, as I have only the frying pan, which is currently being ministered to by the dishwasher, I assure him the grill will be just fine. Except, it's been so well used, every single imagery has been reduced to a shiny blank steel spot, a few stray black bits visible to the naked eye. I guess at the temperature, and like interns, we stick our heads close to the oven, nodding and murmuring to when we think the fan comes on. I have no idea what setting the oven is on, and a quick rifle through the manual does not shed any light. Undaunted, I stick in the chips and pat down the patties. Luckily, we're both happy with medium rare (and these are pure beef burgers from M&S), and I retrieve the constantly slipping tray from the oven. The chips are a tad too crispy, but I think I've got a fair idea of how to work the gadget (apart from getting the timer to ping regularly, the first time being rather alarming in every sense of the word). Now if only I can get the heated rail in the bathroom to actually heat....