I KNOW you’re looking at me. And I know you think it’s wrong. But listen: this is the best possible decision you could make.
I’m a voucher, so you think I’m not glamorous or sexy enough for your wife. But honestly mate, neither are you. So just buy me, yeah?
Look: I get the job done. So now it’s on you. You need to drop the fantasy that you’re going to find a gift that is in any way personal or meaningful. Perfume? She’ll take it back anyway.
Let’s be honest, it’s me or another box of Quality Street, and that died on its arse last year.
What’s wrong with a gift voucher anyway? This way, she can choose whatever present she likes, assuming she’s into mid-market stationery or celebrity cookbooks.
Come the 25th, she’ll go ‘oh wow, I thought WHSmith went out of business years ago, and you’ll go, ‘no, that was BHS, Merry Christmas’.
Don’t overthink this. Buy me, put me in a card, write your name and her name and you’re in the clear.
Stop looking at the ‘Experience Days’, they’re overpriced crap. I’m where it’s at, baby. Fifteen sweet pounds off her next WHSmith purchase.
Don’t question it. Don’t fight. Accept the inevitable, like you both did on your wedding day. Buy me, and get the hell out of here. For all our sakes.
