Toasting flying alarm clocks

BY BOB IRVINE

"Presents For Men", the title reads. "Original, stylish and practical presents for men and boys of all ages". I had hit the mother lode.

The catalogue inside a magazine sent from Britain was a Christmas present all on its own. So is the average British male any different from his Kiwi counterpart? Sorry, that would be telling. We take an oath at the meetings not to divulge – although how hard can it be to suss men out?

It astounds me that 380 Nelson women felt they needed Peta Mathias as a translator. I can reveal that my English catalogue caters to sports nuts, beginning on page 2 with toasters that will "toast your team" every morning by branding the bread "Celtic", "Chelsea", etc.

Later, we are offered giant pepper mills in the shape of a baseball bat or a lager bottle, but the giant pepper mill is such an inherent joke it's hard to ring any humour from it. The Rotary Pizza Saw, on the other hand, is all class.

"Show your pizza you mean business," says the blurb, touting a machine that looks like a skill saw and is "made of industrial-grade plastic with a stainless-steel laser-etched blade".

The Mood Toast is similar to the football toasters, except with a smiley face, "I Love You" or, inevitably, "Have A Nice Day". If it can scan a barcode, this appliance will throw every shop assistant in the country out of work.

The sporty tat has a Horse and Hound tinge to it, with shotgun cartridge cufflinks or toilet-roll holders in the shape of your gun dog.

And the catalogue wouldn't be British without a dose of snobbery. Send off today for socks in the livery of your old regiment or public school.

Gadzooks, I hope buyers have to prove their provenance or any bounder could stroll around in Eton strip. Me, for instance.

Once well-shod, a gentleman would not pass sartorial inspection without a leather wallet for his collar stiffeners, and at home he obviously needs silver lids for the Bovril jar.

We veer at this juncture into a disturbing brace of goods that are actually a good idea, such as the Big-Button Cellphone, Ear-Warmer Headphones and a coin jar that counts the money.

A tape measure capable of recording your dictated measurement is probably more trouble than it's worth on the job, but intriguing. And what should appear in new guise but an old Kiwi camping favourite, the Thermette. It's now a Storm Kettle, and at 45 ($NZ102) a pop, owners are probably boiling their water over burning pound notes.

A hygienically challenged bloke could do with a laundry bag marked in gradients of "1 Week", "2 Weeks", "3 Weeks" and "Naked".

Personally, I'm dropping pressie hints for the Flying Alarm Clock. When the alarm rings, it launches a propeller to fly around the room. That will send the dog scampering on her 6.30 incursions.

It would be mean-spirited to buy the Bottle Lock stopper for your malt whisky. I'd forget the combination anyway. Keep those necks open because the Bottle Top Ashtray "turns almost any wine bottle into an instant ashtray", and the Bottle Cap Tripod promises rock-steady snaps in the field. We won't explore how the Maggie Thatcher Nutcracker works.

On the next page, the Toastabag makes a "perfect toasted sandwich, omelette, baked beans, burgers, etc" in your toaster (when it's not saluting Arsenal). The Mechanical Robot Arm looks like fun, although you have to assemble it yourself. I prefer the boyish potential for mayhem in a Virtually Indestructible Remote Controlled Airplane, or the Giant Water Balloon Launcher. If you fancy launching yourself, the Solar-Powered Airship, an eight-metre black sausage, is pictured lifting a chap into the stratosphere.

(Pull the other one – you're talking to the owner of "See-Through-Clothes Spectacles" bought from the back page of a Phantom comic when I was 10.)

Having just rid ourselves of cellphone-using drivers, I can't see the Drivemocion catching on. With a remote control on the dashboard and a lighted sign suctioned to the back window, you can thank following motorists for letting you into the queue, or tell bumper-huggers to "Back off".

Being British, however, the "Sorry" signal is likely to wear out first. You can just imagine distracted drivers ploughing into the car in front while apologising to the one behind.

A coupon is already winging its way to Blighty for the Goldfish Plug, which looks as if your precious pet is stuck tail-up in the plughole. I don't have the street cred to carry off Tattoo Sleeves, which will "have everyone convinced you've spent hours in the tattoo studio".

More in my league is the Nestcam, a bird-box with "the highest quality CCTV camera". Black-and-white coverage costs 140 and colour 180. I always say television is for the birds.

- © Fairfax NZ News