Today when heading off to the seafront I came across a box of Christmas crackers lying on the pavement. None of them had been opened. What’s more, these were of no ordinary variety; the box said so, proclaiming on its top in large letters that these were ‘Luxury Christmas Crackers’. Well what would you have done? I immediately opened the box and started pulling them. My first disappointment was on finding that none of them made any noise; more of a ‘plip’ – I suppose the damp had got to the small explosive charges that would normally have facilitated some sort of a bang, or crack. Nevertheless, undeterred, I rooted round inside to see what sort of gift could be obtained from crackers that proclaimed themselves ‘luxury’. The first contained a small puzzle made of several bits of bent wire that had already started to rust. Not exactly luxurious, but, I reasoned, you always get a few sub-standard surprises inside crackers. I pulled another. This revealed a small plastic pen that made the puzzle seem rather more attractive in comparison. The contents of the third cracker: two plastic golf tees, confirmed my worst suspicions that the description on the box was a marketing ploy devoid of any integrity.

Yet it is an ill wind that blows no one any good. While engaged in this activity I had spotted several people walking down the road towards me and, had I not first experimented with these three, I might have had the false confidence to approach them with the box in the hope that they would have pulled the remaining crackers with me in a random and spontaneous act of friendship. Thank heavens I didn’t! With my newly acquired knowledge of the contents of these ‘luxury crackers’ I was able to avoid the embarrassment of revealing myself as some kind of cheapskate to complete strangers.

My only regret is that, in thereupon beating a hasty retreat, I forgot to read the jokes.