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The first of February 2008 may seem a little distant now. However, it is a moment that should be marked, and sternly so, in the history of computing.

It was the day my local Chinese takeaway introduced its computer system. It was when the machines finally won, that the prophecies of umpteen science fiction movies came to fruition - not because the world was wiped out, but because a computer got in the way of my gut and its curry.

The beauty of my local takeaway, and I'm sure many of you enjoy the same delight, is that you ring up, ask for what you want and, if you're really lucky, they bring it to your house. It was one of the hidden bonuses when I moved into the area four years ago - although naturally I had to do a group test of the local alternatives, which resulted in only one case of the runs. As such, it has become a safe haven from cooking on a lazy weekend.

On 1st February, a good old-fashioned beef curry and fried rice seemed a smashing idea, so I duly rang the number. The usually friendly lady at the end of the phone, though, was in a fluster. "What's the number?" she queried when I asked for a curry.

The number? What number?

She went on to explain that in future, I needed to order via the menu reference number, and couldn't use,

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to be blunt, 'words'. I didn't have such numbers, so carried on the old-fashioned way, which added a delay while she cross-referenced the numbers and tapped them into the computer. This, I concluded, is not progress.

Off the menu

The menu, of course, has long since disappeared down the back of the drawers where it once was kept. There's more chance of me finding winning lottery numbers than uncovering it any time soon. But that wasn't my problem.

I'd collected food from this Chinese takeaway in the past, and it's not a big establishment. In fact, there's an open door that links the front of house to the kitchen, so you can watch the staff merrily pouring calories into tinfoil boxes. If I had a variance on an order in the past, they just shouted out to the kitchen. The kitchen staff were, when I checked, blessed with ears, so they listened. And all was well.

So why introduce technology into an environment such as that?

Granted, at some point in the future there'll be a big printout of the establishment's most and least popular dishes to pore over, but surely in a small business with few staff that's not too tricky to figure out? I can only conclude that the offspring of the owner is a computer whizz and convinced his parents it would be a great plan to bring technology into a place where it clearly doesn't belong, simply because he can. Soon, you won't be able to have your curry without peas in it, because - as anyone who went into a pub after computerisation in the 1980s and 1990s can tell you - there's not a button on the computer for that.

Technology is, I firmly believe, a great enabler. However, when it gets in the way of a good old-fashioned Friday night curry, serious questions must be asked. For in the constant fight between man and computer, the latter has landed what could be a killer blow.