Spatulas, Bows and Ribbons

This weekend was the school Christmas Fayre.

I was allocated to the "Present-Wrapping-Room" with a big sign on the door which said "NO PARENTS". There was an impressive array of bottles of bubble bath, lip gloss, make-up bags, leather credit card holders, air fresheners, and other gifty items spread out around the room. In the centre were 4 tables piled high with ribbons and wrapping paper and sellotape and bows and labels, and pens and pencils for writing labels.

The idea was for children to come in (leaving mum or dad outside with their mulled wine), choose a present, hand over a sweaty pound coin to teacher (mwhahaha - that's me now! I'm teacher!), and then wrap up aforementioned present (probably with help from teacher).

I was quite looking forward to it (I spoke to Mum before hand and it sent her spinning off into delighted reminiscences; I heard all about how my cousin Mark had bought her a sachet of shampoo and wrapped it up all by himself and it was just the cutest thing when little ponters give you something they've chosen all by themselves! This forced me to point out to her that however delightful it might be for Mum, for a student teacher who has one day off a week and has to spend it up to the eyeballs in sellotape with children the idea has considerably less charm).

Anyway, Present-Wrapping-Room. The first child enters clutching her sweaty pound, and announces she's looking for a present for Dad. We look at all the nice presents on the first table. She ponders the shampoo, the air fresheners . . . nope. Not right for Dad. So we move onto the next table, toiletry bag? C.D. holder? . . . nope, not for Daddy. . . Moving on to the last table . . . leather credit card holder? cuddly toy? No. None of them are right. I'm a bit puzzled, but before I have time to stop her, she has moved onto the wrapping up table.
"This is perfect! Dad'll love this!"
She is holding one of Year 6's chewed yellow and black pencils, and thrusting her pound at me.

I stand there a bit stunned.
Help.
I've just sold a small child one of the school's pencils - I'm not sure that's even allowed, and she's definitely been ripped off.
But she's so happy with the pencil!

I had to think quick, so I grabbed the first present I see. This happens to be (*****) = I'm still not sure what it was. It was square and green and had a loose top bit and hideous leaf shaped patterns on it.
"How about you give this to Daddy, AS WELL as the pencil?"

So on Christmas day, someone, somewhere, will be presented with a present which rattles ominously when moved, and open it to find a hideous square green leaf thing, housing a chewed Year 6 pencil. "Thank you SO much, Isobel, it's just what I've always wanted".


P.S. Who is Brian Blessed?