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The aspirational couple's guide to a stupidly expensive Christmas

ARE you a couple who think Christmas is mainly about demonstrating how much money you’ve got? Here are some ideas.

Buy abnormally costly presents 

For most people an expensive present usually means a nice watch or jewellery that isn’t from Elizabeth Duke. Not for you – get your partner a car, or, if you’re a bit nouveau, matching cars.

Insist that every detail is perfect

The tree must be big, the mince pies Waitrose at the very least, and the upmarket decorations perfectly positioned. If Christmas is costing you a bomb AND giving you stress migraines, your preparations are going splendidly!

Have a Christmas break that is totally unlike Christmas

Go somewhere like a luxury resort in the Bahamas where you will have none of the experiences that actually make Christmas Christmas, eg. on Christmas Day go scuba diving followed by rum cocktails on the beach and a grilled swordfish meal.

Put your Christmas on Facebook

There’s no point in spending all that money unless it’s dutifully posted on Facebook. You’ll get loads of ‘likes’, by which people actually mean ‘rot in Hell you ostentatious swine’.

Expensive everything 

Part of the joy of Christmas is stuff like crackers with a rubbish plastic magnifying glass inside. Avoid this tacky fun with ones containing quality gifts like a miniature hip flask that will make guests feel unsuccessful and poor.

 

Are you in the queue for the f*cking cashpoint or not?

By cashpoint user Nathan Muir

WE’VE seen you many times. A*sing about vaguely on the pavement near a cashpoint machine, all of a sudden wondering why people are glowering at you.

You’re just minding your own business. And yet, it seems, you have questions to answer. 

You’ve managed to situate yourself just far enough away that it’s not clear if you want to take money out or you’re some sort of suspicious loiterer. 

Irritation is growing against you. You’re buried deep in the contents of your phone and two loud ‘harrumphs’ have failed to alert you to the discomfiture of your fellow queuers.

Are you in the queue? Or are you hovering about waiting for something, maybe a male or female prostitute of some kind who uses the HSBC cashpoint as a location to turn tricks?

Finally people are forced to ask. At this point you try three cards and after being rejected for £100, £50 and £30, eventually withdraw £10.

You take ages faffing about. And still they can’t be sure – were you in the f*cking queue or not?

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