Not sure what to spend your Christmas vouchers on? Here are some of Dr M von Vogelhausen’s five-star Amazon reviews…
Kitchen Craft Colourworks Measuring Spoon Set, Set of 5
***** a spoony rainbow of joy
For some while now I have struggled to keep abreast of the differing quantities of things in my house. This is a particular problem as I have so many different things – sugar, banana powder, tiny car parts, imitation sawdust, and vanity, to name but a few – and it is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain any kind of balance.
So it was that, as ever, I turned to these pages, and a few minutes of searching saw me chance upon the Kitchen Craft Colourworks Measuring Spoon Set (Set of 5). At first, I had to close my eyes; such was the colourness. Then, I noticed how they were smooth, and how they combined the two key human concepts of control (the obedient Holdingsticks, held in place by the benevolent Ring of Dominance) and freedom (the rebellious Bowls of Containing). Then, for half an hour or so, I imagined what it might sound like to rattle them in my hand, while chuckling softly, as I searched for a lost alien botanist hiding in a Californian suburb during the 80s.
Essentially, I bought them. What is there to say about this masterpiece of a product? Oh, plastic joy! Oh Grampa Gram-Gatherer! Only yesterday, I was stacking a number of earwig wigs beside my lifetime’s supply of intensity, when it struck me that I didn’t even know which weighed more. Out came the spoons, and the answer was – a dead heat. Majestic! These also work as a useful tool for measuring your spoons (against these spoons – are they bigger/smaller/the same/above and beyond?) Brilli-spoon!
Fossil JR9158 Gents Brown Leather Strap Watch With Brown Dial
***** very useful
I purchased this watch principally so that I could inform myself of what point in the day I had reached, without having to go through the laborious process of building a sundial or consulting the entrails of a newly killed hamster. In this respect above all this Fossil watch has been a succesful purchase (which is something of a novelty for me). However, I have one small quibble. When I want to stop time, I pull the little dial out at the side, and the hands do indeed freeze. Unfortunately, time itself beyond the well-styled confines of the watch continues ever onward. I phoned the customer service department (run by my second cousin Luthor, though that has no bearing on this) and they were unable to pinpoint the source of the problem. So, in summary, its time-telling properties are top notch; it falls short of the mark when it comes to stopping time. And the local wild population of hamsters is flourishing, which is admittedly something of a mixed blessing.
Alan Sugar – What You See Is What You Get: My Autobiography
You asked me to elaborate on our conversation over kedgeree on Tuesday. I shall oblige you, this once.
I came upon the shop on Monday morning – lost in the dank fog that has haunted London much of this new Century. I knocked; answer came there none. I pushed the door, the tinkle of the bell above it seeming hollow and mocking. I cried a timorous halloo; again, silence and the whisper of the settling dust my only reply. I borrowed a lamp from the coachman whom I had made wait outside, his horse nervously tapping at the grimy cobbles.
In the feeble light of the lamp I saw a multitude of volumes in varying states of repair – Almanacks, a German translation of the Iliad, the Principia Mathematica and a copy of Alex the Destructor’s Maxims. So far, nothing to excite you, I’m sure. And then, as though a shade from beyond the veil were guiding me, I found myself drawn to a table near the window. Among the leather and velour of the covers I suddenly saw a flash of cerulean blue.
It was, of course, “What You See Is What You Get: My Autobiography”. As you know, since that business with Dickens’ moustache I have been unable to read fiction. The book is not fiction; and so I read it. Before embarking upon it, I knew nothing of Alan Sugar. When finished, I knew nothing of myself. The words – Carruthers, the words! – they are like a web, woven by a spider of truth. The chapters are like lush Carib islands, green jewels in the purest blue Sea as seen on the cover. Ah, me.
So, you ask and you asked on Tuesday – quite impertinently, as is your wont – who is Sugar? An easier question might be, who is he not? For he is every man; he is you, or I, and he is the unseen guest at every table, the whispered voice in one’s ear that criticises the deportment of one’s host. He is past and present and (I theorise) future. You asked could you borrow the book. I shall consider it, and may accede to your request, if it makes GOOD BUSINESS SENSE, YEAH? It is truly a worthy tome.
Dr. M von V