Gift Giving for the Bewildered

The Pub is proud to present another cautionary festive season tale by Currer Bell our strictly anonymous Guest Author. The final excerpt from Bah Humbug! A Survivor’s Guide to End of Year Festivities will be published next week …

(Photo: Courtney House)

Here are some helpful hints which I have called Gift Giving for the Bewildered. That applies to most of us, as inspiration is in short supply at this time of year.

Men generally want to please the women in their life, which makes them the perfect target for hard-selling sales people. Those who assure them’ she’ll love this,’ about everything imaginable, from a wok to a camper van and accessories. So, do the guys a favour. Leave out catalogues or magazines with items you would like circled in bold marker pen and tell them that you have done so. With a bit of luck, you might get something you want and can use. Then your cries of pleasure will be genuinely meant, while the man in your life will have bought something that you actually wanted.

(Photo: Organic Natural Gift Guide)

Please don’t give the men in your life the usual socks and jocks which they have come to expect. Think more imaginatively. Of course you should have been listening for clues all year for those items they moan they need and have not got, but it’s not too late. Think experience – a plane flight, a brewery tour, a home brewing class, a paint balling session. Think fun, whatever their kind of fun is – concert tickets, footy tickets, Harley ride, hot air ballooning. Even think practical if you must, and buy the screwdriver set they wanted, or the more expensive version of a faithful old saw, or drill. Mr Practical will be delighted.

(Photo: Wikipedia)

Finally, this may be the year to deal with Old Uncle Killjoy. You know whom I mean – the relative who always moans about the commercialisation of the festive season and vows he doesn’t want any presents. Alright then, this year OUK gets nothing – not even a carefully-wrapped toothpick. Almost certainly OUK will spend most of the day weeping quietly in some secluded spot, but he will learn his lesson and will never EVER misbehave again.

(Photo: Washington University Political Review)

With confidence and some forward planning, the festive season can be fun for everybody and that includes the harassed woman who is usually at the centre of it. Absorb your seasonal lessons, what went wrong this year, and what went right. Plan to have an even better time next year. Oh, and a quick reminder – and never decorate your Christmas tree twice.

(Photo: HunterxColleen)

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495 thoughts on “Gift Giving for the Bewildered

  1. BB’s description of his word games with the young copper need to be immortalised in a Clint Eastwood movie. A classic encounter between generations.

  2. … immortalised in a Clint Eastwood movie. A classic encounter between generations.

    The words, “Go ahead, punk. Make-My-Day.” were on the tip of my lips, but HI was pinching too hard.

  3. BB
    Was the cop who shined a torch into your car wearing dark glasses? Cops who shine torches into cars should always wear dark glasses. It makes them look like real cops. A cop wore dark glasses when he shone the torch into Janet Leigh’s car in Psycho. Admittedly that was in the morning. No self-respecting cop would shine a torch into a car without wearing dark glasses. Sounds like the cop who shone the torch into your car was a young cop with no respect for proper police procedure. They should show Psycho at the Police Academy. Things just aint what they used to be. The world is really going to the dogs since Abbott took over.

  4. He was an Eastwood copper. They spit in people’s fish shops, then threaten to breach them for unsanitary food preparation areas. Or so I have been told recently.

  5. I believe you when you say your intentions were above reproach though.

    The thing is that they won’t tell you what your reading is. I suppose the logic is that they keep you guessing, so that you tend to err on the side of caution.

    I am scrupulously careful when out drinking. I always drink water for an hour before leaving the table, and don’t slosh it down before that, either.

    Having said that, I’d probably had one more than I usually do, and I was a little concerned, just a bit. How just counting to 5 can in any way be conclusive, beats me.

    Saves on disposable straws, but.

  6. Eastwood Copper probably read Bushfire Bill on the drivers license recognized the name and was muscling up to throw him in the slammer.

    Good thing HI was there to keep BB under control while copper was watching

  7. georgeous dunny

    I’m probably too late,but happy holidays, catch you here next year.

    Muskiemp

    Thank you for the Craig Emerson article, I like reading what he writes as I trust him.

    Leonie

    It has been wonderful the last 6 years not having to fill out the disability forms for Razz. I mean, when someone has MS, can’t walk, has trouble with hands, etc……the ridiculousness of having to write the same things every year, when things only get worse not better, it is just unbelievable. Gawd, I hope they leave her alone this time, unless of course they find a cure and can put her back into the very healthy state she was before this shitful thing got her.

  8. If I’d had my wits about me….

    “Count to five, SIR.”

    “One…. t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-two….. thrrrrrrrrrrreee…. four…. four….. uhm…. whash nexsh, Officer?”

  9. My cop adventure. A true story.

    Years ago when #1 son was still at high school I had to pick him up from a school function at about 10 at night. The function was held in the school hall. The school – Catholic (that’s important) was next door to a Catholic village for the old and grumpy. Both the school and the village share the same access road from the highway and to leave the school you have to drive straight towards the grumps’ village, which at night means headlights shining into windows of a couple of residences. You can see where this is going…….

    I collected my son and as we were leaving a police car came up out of the carpark and followed us down the road. One of son’s friends was the daughter of a copper, she had been at the do that night, we assumed it was Sergeant X picking up his daughter and when the cop car flashed its lights at us we assumed it was Miss X being cute so we kept going. Once we reached the highway the cops flashed again so I pulled over.

    Now comes the good part – when the licence photo I had then had been taken I’d been in the middle of some aggressive chemotherapy so the photo showed me in a headscarf. Mr Plod made a few comments about the need to pull over when flashed and didn’t really like my son’s ‘We thought you were Sergeant X’ comment. He asked what was going on at the school, because there had been complaints from the grumps about hoons driving around. I explained it was a school thing and kids were being collected. Then……..Mr Plod asked for my licence and saw the headscarf photo. You could almost hear the thought wheels kick into high gear – Catholic school, school function…oh no! With some bewilderment he said ‘So, are you a nun?’ I just gave him a look. I can do the nun school teacher look really well, I used to teach with nuns. The poor bloke’s manner changed. He must have gone to a Catholic school. He became every apologetic, said he knew I couldn’t possibly have been doing anything that would cause complaints and fled.

  10. The not telling the reading bit is a bit strange.
    I have tested plenty of times and I always ask and am always told.
    Maybe because I have to be zero limit I know what the answer will be anyway.

    My strategy with the wallopers is be polite, say as little as possible, and go as soon as told.

  11. The last time a cop pulled me over was a long time ago. So long ago it might not have happened. Or if it happened it was certainly rare. The thing that struck me was his voice. His voice was toneless. It had no tone. When he didn’t speak his head nodded up and down, and the fingers of his right hand drummed on the window ledge. Drum drum. Up and down in time to his nod. This made him look quite silly. Not only that but he was wearing dark glasses. And he was holding a torch. He was almost a typical cop. The only thing that prevented him from being a completely typical cop was the way he had one leg crossed over the other. I could see this when I peered over the window ledge. And not only that but he was jiggling it. His ankle rather. His ankle jiggled at the end of his leg, and his sock came out of his shoe and disappeared somewhere into his trousers. If it wasn’t for that he would have been a completely typical grey cop. I say grey because he had grey hair and wore a grey coat, and his socks were grey and his shoes were more dark than grey. His shirt was not so grey, and his tie was half way between light blue and grey and his trousers were dark but less dark than grey. So he was not entirely grey but overall he was mainly grey. You could say he was almost a typical grey cop who liked to drum his fingers and jiggle his ankle. I felt sure if he took his hat off he would have had a bald spot. That would also be typical I thought. I felt sure it would be shiny and reflect the light from the street lamp I’d just happened to park my car under where he’d pulled me over a long time ago.

    Being a typical cop he did all the talking. I said nuttin.

  12. I decided that the camera I bought last Christmas really wasn’t much good, the pictures were too poor a quality to print in a Officeworks photobook when compared to photos taken by professional photographers or even photos taken with the older camera, which I had given away. The camera was small enough to slip into a pocket but the CCD memory isn’t up to snuff.

    So I looked at the Choice camera tests and wonder of wonders a newer version of my old camera topped the tests and was really cheap (I expect that it’s about to be superceded) so I bought the top ranked camera online from JB HI FI because no store admitted to carrying it. Camera delivered on Friday was faulty as tested by me, a friend, & 2 JBHI sales staff so they agreed to take it back.

    In my retail research, almost all compact digital cameras retail for less than $400, the top rated camera for $200. About 6 years ago similar cameras were $600 to $700.

    Replacement camera works satisfactorily so far, so next step is to put it to the Officeworks photobook test

  13. My saddest ticket was caught speeding along Beach Road where there is a rocky beach on one side and unfenced suburban train track on the other. Since forever that stretch of road has been an unofficial 80km zone. It was 5pm driving into the setting sun and the police had laid out their speed cameras. Did I have any excuse? Admitting that you couldn’t see them after visiting the optometrist seemed to be an excuse that was bound to get me into hot water, so I looked sheepish and said No.

  14. One day I was breathalised. When the copper asks me to count to 10, I almost asked if I could count in French but I was afraid he might say “non”…

  15. I have to admit, I have dined out on the nun story a lot, but so has my son. He still thinks it’s hilarious. I still have that old licence, I keep it to remind myself how dreadful I looked at the time. I looked nothing like a nun, really I didn’t.

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