There is nothing in this world more nerve-wracking than realising that it’s coming up to Christmas and you are morally and culturally obliged to acquire uniquely thoughtful, and occasionally expensive, gifts for those people in your life who’ve had a year solid enough to claw their way onto your gift list.
“What about the prospect of having all of your body hair fall off? Or of waking up one morning to find your lower half has been transformed into the lower half of a large moth? Or any number of the genuinely difficult things that people encounter in day to day life? Are not they more nerve-wracking?” I hear you ask. And yes, I must concede that in comparison to these examples, the annual strife of selecting Christmas presents gets somewhat left by the wayside.
That being said, you will inevitably find yourself, at some point in the run up to the festive period, standing transfixed by indecision in some habberdashery desperately trying to recollect even the smallest personal detail about Ian, your office Kris Kindle. You know that Ian once mentioned something about badgers but, as you stare down at the novelty, badger-themed mug that reads “What’s black, white and red all over? Me when I’ve been run-over!” you can’t remember which side of the badger debate he falls and so think better of purchasing anything that actively celebrates road-kill. You grow more alarmed as you realise that you only have three minutes to select a present before the habberdashery closes, and, as you feel yourself almost engulfed by the panic, you drop your shopping and run out of the store. You don’t stop running until you’ve reached the outskirts of town. You throw your phone and any identity cards on your person into a nearby brook, and, having briefly lapped at the water’s edge for your thirst to be abetted by the cool, flowing water, you begin running once more; running into the wild darkness, to begin life anew amongst nature and away from fucking Ian and his inscrutable, seemingly-hobbyless-and-impossible-to-buy-presents-for persona.
… It’s a situation that I think we can all say we’ve experienced at least once in our lives. And thankfully, it is soon to be consigned to the annals of history as there has come to our attention a present so magnificent, so utterly mental, as to be completely universal in its appeal – a mug with the entire script of Shrek printed on it in very, very, fine print – so fine as to be almost illegible.
Think about it now, think about anyone you know – a parent; a lover; a dear friend; a cheap friend; that man you occasionally see on a bus who mutters to himself, they would – every single one of them – love a mug with the entire script of the 2001 animated film Shrek printed on it in very, very fine – almost illegible – print. They would want nothing more in this world than that mug. Imagine their faces, their little faces, on Christmas day as they unwrap their mug and – after the initial confusion subsides once they’ve retrieved their high-powered magnifying equipment and deciphered the writing – seeing their little faces melting into expressions of ecstasy.
The mug is available in two styles, one for €12.47 and the other for €20.54. Unbelievably there are also several other pieces of, presumably entirely unlicensed, merchandise emblazoned with the entire script of Shrek, including a tea towel and a t-shirt. If you would like to give someone the gift of early onset macular degeneration brought on from focusing on very, very fine – almost illegible – print, then click here.
