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Gifts guaranteed to ruin your big day
STACIA BRIGGS
08 September 2008
Seeing what other people have been given as wedding presents makes me confident that my decision to remain a Miss and not a Mrs was entirely correct.
If I want something from John Lewis so much that I write its name down on a list, I'll go and buy it myself and equally, if I want something really horrible, homemade and useless, I'll keep the stuff that the kids bring home from school.
I think there must be something quite sinister about drying your face on a towel bought for you by a stranger who used to go out with your husband's friend and who you met twice yet were expected to buy dinner for on your wedding day.
According to recent research, most newlyweds hate their wedding gifts and desperately wish their guests had just bought vouchers or given cash - because nothing marks a romantic occasion like a tenner in a card or a voucher from Argos.
People who secretly hate the couple whose wedding they are attending should take note: the top five worst wedding presents were, in no particular order, personalised bath robes, salt and pepper pots, candlesticks, photo frames and plates.
The above list completely justifies my decision to buy those his and hers matching coffins, the bedlinen woven from my own hair and the paperweights made from artificial hip joints on the basis that none appear in the list of worst ever wedding presents. I must try harder.
A massive 68pc of brides and grooms admitted that they hated their gifts and said they'd rather have vouchers and cash, although 28pc admitted that they found vouchers “difficult to spend” (thick, as well as ungrateful).
I don't understand why there isn't a degree more honesty about wedding lists. Instead of issuing a list at Debenhams, why not just charge guests for their meal and have done with it? There could be an entry fee at the church door, another one at the reception and cash up front if you want three courses.
Granted, you wouldn't get a matching dinner service, but who in their right mind wants a matching dinner service? How many times do you invite 12 people round for dinner anyway? And how many of the imaginary dozen would give a monkey's uncle if their side plate matched their dessert bowl? And is dinner the same as tea? I always get confused.
In addition to the sheer tediousness of having to trawl round a department store compiling your wedding list, probably with your husband-to-be who literally could not give a toss whether you have a milk pan, a panini press, a pedestal mat or a set of fish knives, there's also the cold, hard knowledge that some guests will go 'off road' and buy you something a little more imaginative.
Worse still, there's the added cold hard knowledge that when they do, you're going to have to keep it, display it and pretend to love it whenever they come round to your house - clear the storage space now, because soon you're going to have a cupboard full of this rubbish that you'll need to sift through in a panic when the gift-giver announces they're dropping by in five minutes.
Crafters are by far the worst. Generally women of a certain age who weren't allowed near the glue pot when they were children, the amateur crafter will stop at nothing when it comes to ruining something perfectly, acceptably plain.
Photo frames, jewellery boxes, bookmarks and glasses are all at high risk. If it stands still long enough, a crafter will cover it in decoupage, glass paint, felt, raffia, glitter, stickers or all manner of other crap that's lying around the house.
Sharon always knew she had an unexplored artistic side, but you'll just wish she'd discovered it after your wedding.
Of course there are several solutions to wedding present angst - specify that you would rather not receive presents, ask that any gifts are given as donations to charity or don't bother getting married in the first place and buy your own bloody toaster, you great big pair of cheapskates.
TAKING THE ROUGH WITH THE SMOOTH
Norfolk Police officers have been banned from putting their hands in their pockets while dealing with the public, told to shave off their designer stubble, stop using mobile phones at work and cover up inappropriate tattoos and 'extreme' nail varnish.
In a stroke, my chances of joining the force have been reduced to almost zero - and the only reason I remember to shave off my designer stubble is because it gets in the way of all the personal phone calls I make on my mobile all day.
A new dress and behaviour guide has been issued by Norfolk Police to address the public's perception of the force.
Its introduction states: “It is important we make positive impressions with everyone we deal with. What you say and what you do can have a lasting effect on others, both in their impression of you personally, but also of Norfolk Constabulary.”
I can understand that the top brass at Norfolk's cop shop don't want the boys and girls in blue turning up looking like Marilyn Manson, but I can promise them that if I was arrested by clean-shaven Paul Daniels or stubbly George Clooney, I know which arrest would have a lasting, positive effect on me.
Especially if Daniels said, before reading my rights, “you'll like this…not a lot…but you'll like it”.
According to recent research from Northumbria University, women are more attracted to men with stubbly chins than those with clean-shaven faces or full beards, equating stubble with manliness and believing that the man underneath the bristles will be tough, mature, dominant and masculine.
Clean-shaven men are seen as weak, boyish, immature and submissive, which is the excuse I'd be giving my bosses at Norfolk Police if I couldn't be arsed to shave in the morning.
That, along with the fact that facial hair boosts the apparent size of the lower jaw by emphasising the teeth as weapons which, in Neanderthal days, was a popular way of looking really hard before you went clubbing (real clubbing, with a club, not clubbing as in 'on Prince of Wales Road', although there are many similarities between Neanderthals and the kind of knuckle-draggers the emergency services have to get involved with on Friday and Saturday nights).
As far as I can see, the only discernible benefit to the public of police officers being clean-shaven at all times is that a brush with the law could suddenly become like a game of Top Trumps. For example:
PC: Do you know the speed limit for this stretch of road, madam?
SB: Do you know the stubble length limit for police officers?
PC: On your way, madam.
Personally, however, I think a dress code for frontline emergency staff is a great idea. Male firefighters, for example, must get awfully hot in that cumbersome uniform and might do better to think about attending blazes in just a pair of tight-fitting shorts, or possibly just a towel.
A GUIDE TO BOYS AND GIRLS IN THE 'HOOD
A handy guide has been published for parents who wish to discover whether little Nigel or Fenella has become a secret gangster and is making undercover plans to terrorise the ghetto (the rough bit of the Golden Triangle, next to the slide at the Jenny Lind playground). The guide has been produced by the Home Office in conjunction with police, local authorities, parenting organisations and community groups including Mothers Against Violence and offers advice on how to spot a trainee gangster.
In a nutshell, if they have a new nickname, like Bone Dogg or 70 Pence, unexplained cash or new possessions, are using new slang words or graffiti-style 'tags', often get home late from school and are wearing bandanas, it's time to lock them in a room with a copy of the Bible until they're ready to renounce all forms of evil and get a job as an accountant.
Having conducted a straw poll of parents I know, most say that their children have nicknames, use slang, are perpetually late, have possessions that no-one remembers buying (hands up which sadist bought the harmonica?) and some have bandanas, albeit ones from Boden or Mini Gap (does that count?). With this in mind, I have compiled an additional list of warning signs which may, or may not, suggest that your child is running with the wrong 'crew' and that you should check your bed nightly for severed horse's heads. Telltale signs that your child may be a gangsta:
They threaten to 'pop a cap in yo ass' if you ask them to tidy their room.
They ask you if you'd mind reloading their gun while you're getting their packed lunch ready.
They're running a narcotics operation at your house.
They express their hatred of society and 'the man' by wearing their trousers round their ankles and showing their pants.
They have stopped waving goodbye and starting throwing up West Side hand signals
They ask if you'd mind if they pimped out their sister. NB: If things have got this far down the line, the Bible may not work - moving to downtown Burnham Market may be your only option.
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