Who has the best hands in television? Easy, that one. It's the perfectly palmed, desirable digits on the iPhone adverts.

His well proportioned, clean hands sum up perfectly what Apple is all about. I want to hate everything about the iPhone – after all it is cliquey and gimmicky and seems to be more about selling an image more than a phone – but I simply can't bring myself to.

Apple was sold to me a few years ago by a Taiwanese computer store worker, who basically showed me all the cool, if a little pointless, things their laptops can do. Within an hour of his slick sales pitch, I had bought one. From that point on, Apple could do no wrong.

An iPod followed, then an iPod Shuffle, then some 'socks' to protect my iPod – they cost about £17 for four and were little more than socks. I didn't care though, I was an Appleholic.

The iPhone has apps – little mini-programmes you can download for your handest. And it is these apps, more than anything else, which really float my boat. It seems that most are utterly pointless but I don't care.

The app which calculates your share of the bill is a calculator. Do I REALLY need an app which tells me random Ernest Hemingway quotes? If I was in a nail-hammering, drill wielding, shelf putting up mood, would I really balance my shiny iPhone on my new shelf to make sure it was horizontal using the spirit level app – or would it not be safer to use the real thing?

How many times would I use an app which tells me what all of the major symbols mean on laundry care labels on the inside of clothes?

They are all daft, but I know that when I come to renew my handset in a few months, I'll be casting envious glances towards the iPhone.