It’s that time of year again folks. No, it’s not the annual shaving of the gooch, but it’s that rather strange period when it’s teetering on the edge of summer, so retailers go fucking mental, and start making you think you need to start planning for Christmas, 7 months early. Shoutout to the Parks Christmas Catalogue and DFS Sale Adverts. Whilst you normally audibly gag at the mere mention of an Argos catalogue, this year you have literally nothing better to do, so suck back the vom and get ahead of the game.
If you’re like me, then buying Christmas presents can be a daunting task. And given that COVID-19 is set to make this process feel more like a malignant brain tumour than usual, I thought I’d get the ball rolling early.
I’ve compiled just a few gift ideas for each member of the family, so you can have the peace of mind that your Christmas will be just as shite as the last, but totally stress-free. You can thank me later. (But if you do want to send a thank you, I like expensive gin, money, and the attention of my parents that I so desperately crave, having lived under the shadow of my over-achieving sister for the last 22 years.)
Mums have been historically difficult to buy for. You don’t want to get her clothes as you’ll undoubtedly buy the wrong size, and that will just remind her of the body that she used to have and how childbirth, and therefore your existence, completely destroyed her waistline and any chance she had of divorcing your father and becoming George Clooney’s mistress. I’d stray away from ‘Jokey’ presents. She’s definitely still bitter about the multi-pack of marigolds and mop bucket you bought her in 2018. (Even though she still uses them to this day. A great investment if you ask me)
Candles and anything that smells remotely like lavender is my go-to, and usually a good shout. Play it safe with this one.
He’ll just be happy to have you out of the house come New Year, and to stop asking for money when you creep into your overdraft. I’d suggest something strong he can drink on at night, whilst thinking of what life could’ve been like if he had just pulled out at the right time. Don’t think for one second you weren’t an accident, you were. That’s why he only gives you £100 and doesn’t offer to pay for all your rent. Coldplay CD’s also tend to go down a storm.
Fortunately for me, my sister and I have a great system when it comes to gift-giving. We each buy something for ourselves, and just get the other person to pay for it. It’s a wonderfully simple idea and great for me as I’m 1. Incompetent. And 2. Don’t care for her that much.
But Christmas is all about giving, so we’d both much rather get ourselves something we actually want, as opposed to getting a black eye for the WeightWatchers subscription I got for her when she was 15. Mum says it was just leftover baby fat, but that girl could put away Jammy Dodgers like you wouldn’t believe. So I’ll let you make of that what you will.
However, I do acknowledge that lots of you out there will have loving and functioning relationships with siblings, (losers) and this will be no use to you whatsoever. But then again, if I knew what girls wanted, I wouldn’t still be single and be writing an article about Christmas presents in April, for an online magazine that no one will probably read. So, you’re on your own with this one, cunts.
Socks. Believe me. If he’s been in lockdown for 6 months, he’ll welcome a fresh set. White ones are preferable as stains show up on darker colours.
Now this one has always been a slightly trickier affair. What do you get for someone who’s been clinging onto life for the last 10 years?
With the current Lockdown restrictions, it’s not looking likely that a free meal voucher at their local Toby Carvery will be possible. And despite what you may think, another photo album filled with snaps from your yearly holidays to the Algarve, that you’ve been giving them since 2005, is probably getting quite tedious. A subscription to Amazon Prime or Netflix would be nice, but then again they’ll be calling you every week to help reset their password, or asking you how to change the channel because they accidentally put Call Me by Your Name on, and now Nan’s having a heart attack because she’s just seen Timothée Chalamet sniff Armie Hammer’s dirty boxers. If you thought that was bad Nan, you’re gonna love the ending!
An earn is probably a little insensitive, but pop that bad boy into a 6ft, dark brown, mahogany, coffin, delightfully finished with an oil-based varnish; then wrap in tinfoil and you’re onto a winner!
Although, if they’re knocking on the door of 90, they probably have Alzheimer’s. So, a reprint of the photo album from 2005 would suffice.
Send us some of your gift ideas here. Or don’t. You’ll probably ruin Christmas anyway.
By Sam Heathcote