AMID all the lurid details of Ryan Giggs’ love life aired recently in court there was one piece of evidence that most of us could relate to.

The former top flight footballer described how the loading of the dishwasher wound him up.‘I would be opening the dishwasher and the tablespoons would be the wrong way round,’ he said. He even called a team meeting with family members over how to properly load it.

His revelation sparked others to come forward with tales of their dishwasher friction. Marina Fogle, wife of Ben, revealed the only thing they bicker about is stacking the family’s four dishwashers. Four? Yes, four.

Dishwashers ignite arguments in homes across Britain. I have been on the receiving end of many a sharp-tongued lecture when attempting to stack my parents’ machine. My dad, who sadly died recently, was a stickler for dishwashing etiquette. No matter how neatly and securely I stacked it, he would say it was wrong. He had a special sequence of plates, saucers, bowls and glasses, and it had to be just so or it would all be pulled out again and redone. I could just about get away with placing cutlery in the appropriate holder, but was on dodgy ground with utensils. If Dad was supervising, it was best to bow out.

My mum had her own system, which Dad often frowned upon, She was more willing to accept my efforts but insisted on washing the crockery before loading it - something I felt defeated the purpose of having the appliance.

We don’t own a dishwasher, and I am glad of it, but my husband and I still manage to find fault with each other over the washing-up. I am forever berating my husband for stacking crockery in a Jenga tower fashion. The slightest movement sends the whole lot crashing down. We’ve lost various items in this fashion, while he believes that I don’t wash things well enough, forensically scrutinising cereal bowls and wine glasses for missed residue. I get fed up with it.

It’s not just dishwashers - kitchens are minefields of domestic flare-ups.

Just feet from our dish rack sits the washing machine, itself a source of friction. I often lose my temper over less-than-full loads. My husband will turn it on for a hanky, whereas I wouldn’t load it with anything less than a week’s worth of laundry.

The thing that really makes me see red is when he, or one of my daughters who visit occasionally, change the setting. I only ever use the 30 degree, 20-minute economy wash. Any movement from that can result in a 7-hour wash at a lava-like temperature. Sheets may be whiter than white when they come out, but it’s cost a week’s wages in electricity.

Our microwave is an endless source of bickering, when someone fails to clean it out after use, likewise the oven trays - one of the worst, most time-consuming kitchen jobs, which no-one but me ever tackles.

As for the fridge. I am constantly being ticked off by my husband for placing meat products on the higher shelves, albeit in sealed packaging. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you, it’s a health risk,” he will say in a patronising tone.

I’m tired of him aggressively pulling open freezer drawers. Once broken they are hard to replace. And we blame each other about kitchen sink drainer build-up.

Kitchen flare-ups are part of life. We all have our own unwritten rules and regulations. The more appliances we own the greater the potential for arguments.

Even our toaster causes angst: “You’ve set it too high!”/“I haven’t touched the setting!” It will all come to light if I’m ever up in court.