Dear Niall Fitzgerald

It's about my whites. I've just taken the first load of sheets to be washed in your new Persil powder out of the machine, only to discover I am the victim of the dreaded shreds. As I pulled them out of the drum there was no mistaking the damage. Shreds of white tissue everywhere.

Now, if you or one of your boffins could come up with a detergent that destroyed tissues - or even Biro tops - you could be on to a real winner.

As you will have gathered, I am a casualty of the latest soap war, one of the suckers who went out and bought my new Persil powder, rather than waiting for the free sample which I trust is now on its way to mine and 10,999,999 other households. (I'll be very upset if I'm not one of the chosen millions.)

I bought it because of the advertisement. I know, there's really no excuse, but I was just sitting there, on my own, in front of the television, and I thought, why not? I, too, shall play my part in this national experiment.

I should point out here that I am normally a loyal Ariel supporter. Shifts grease at 40 degrees variety. Don't get me wrong, this wasn't a protest vote. I was just being a bit flighty.

I buy Ariel because of those few convincing words on the packet. And because the packet is a squodgy refill which I can cram into my supermarket trolley much easier than one of those plastic containers. It was a personal decision, without any consultation with my family, who don't know their hot whites from their machine-washable woollens.

I wonder what I expected to notice as a result of using your new wonder powder. I mean, I don't even look at the wet clothes as I pull them out of the machine and pile them into the tumble-drier. Except to notice the tissues. Or any nasty, unexpected changes in colour.

And I could be wrong about this, but I have a little hunch - you'd probably call it woman's intuition - that I'm not the only washer out there who behaves in this unappreciative way.

By the time I've washed one white shirt, the one from the previous wash is back in the basket covered with milk, mud or Indian food stains, depending on which member of the family has been wearing it.

Can I ask you a personal question? How do your own shirts compare? When, of an evening, you go through the laundry, do you say: 'Here's the one I wore on that sticky day when I had to explain to the board why we needed an extra 25m to persuade people to buy our new powder. It's washed in Persil. And the grey line on the collar is a paler grey to the one I washed in Ariel Ultra.'

Here's a bit of advice from the front (washing) line. Forget about ads showing atomic levels of whiteness. Just find a detergent that kills tissues. Fast.

Yours, from the utility room,