Wise Crackers
By LESLIE ADRIAN
THOSE lovely cracker
.'Why are marriages likely to fail? Because the bride never marries the best man.' Thank you, thank you (75s. the dozen from Hovell and con- taining really useful gifts, like pocket-knives, ar well as an elaborate paper hat and another motto , that is better forgotten). For -5s. 9d. a dozen, you get: 'Why is it always a mistake to put on a shoe? Because you are always putting your' foot in it.' I'm sure I didn't want to know that, but it's no worse than : `Do you stock camel- hair. brushes? No, sir, nobody keeps camels in these parts.' This gem from Tom Smith's Top Ten (11s. 6d.), which are 'double filled.'
Double filled in the cracker world simply means that every cracker so described should con-- tain a 'novelty,' a paper hat, a' motto and a 'snap.' The snap is that bit of cardboard strip split in the middle and fastened together so that when pulled it ignites a scrap of gunpowder. Apparently all these snaps are made by one com- pany, Reliance Snap, which turns out a hundred million of them a year. In the United States, crackers are known as snappers and are generally sold loose, not in boxes.
The cheapest crackers are probably the best buy, I'm told, if only because they are mostly rubbish and the fun is in seeing them on the table and the tree and pulling them. Except that the very cheap ones tend to come apart without the fun of the snap and crack. So perhaps the best value is to be had from the crackers that offer the chance of a follow-up in the form of table fireworks (as with Smith's Top Ten). They certainly save you from the 'noisemakers,' as cracker-makers call the whistles and trumpets they 'supply.
But there are musical crackers as well. Batger's Harlequin, 27s. 6d. a dozen, contain tuned reeds, covering an octave, a baton and a conductor's handbook. Provided the kids sit still long enough, they can learn to play 'Good King Wenceslas' a note at a time. Mead and Field• Music Maker crackers supply instructions sufficient to equip anyone to play a repertoire extending from 'John Brown's Body' to 'The Drunken Sailor.' But •I advise experimenters not to duplicate the cracker •
issue and provide noisemakers as well. • • I bought a 5s. ltd. giant cracker from Self- ridge's. There was enough nonsense inside to amuse half a dozen children—a paper hat each, three fans, three pairs of plastic scissors, two cardboard trumpets and a bow and arrow. Like all the paper hats (or head-dresses in the trade), these were no more than 'crowns' glued together from tWo flimsy serrated strips of crepe paper.
Yet the profit on crackers, they tell me, is only 5 per cent because of the high labour costs (30 per cent), the 40 per cent retail mark-up, and the 25 per cent spent on materials (quite a lot of it from Hong Kong). Next year, warned one of my informants, crackers will be sold in tens, not in dozens. Decimalisation, I' suppose.
In London, The poshest crackers are sold by Fortnum, Harrods and Marshall and Snelgrove. The most popular range at the last is Mason and Church at 12s. 11d, for twelve, because each cracker always has five articles (double contents plus one). But the public buys for looks and not for value, on the whole. Marshall and Snel- grove have noticed that they sell their cheaper lines on Wednesday and Thursday afternoons, when the cheap-day returns operate, and on Saturday mornings, while the expensive crackers go on Mondays and Tuesdays. The costliest brand they stock is Mansels, finished in white tulle and trimmed with red roses: £5 for six, with good imitation jewellery therein. Some families, they say, keep such expensive and decorative crackers from one Christmas to another.
Disappointing, that, for small boys aware that the folks have bought Tom Smith's Curios with model soldiers attached to, the outside in full view. Never mind the stuff inside, they would sooner have the mediaeval knights and Jacobean warriors detached and in action. For 15s. a dozen, Tom Smith (which includes Caleys and Mead and Field) have all kinds of cracker games, in- cluding one that introduces the youngsters to the distractions of gambling (ten crackers only, this box).
It's a pity that the wholesale catalogues I've been goggling at are not available to the cracker- buying public. Not only would the profit margins shock the most sanguine, the immense and ex- travagant variety of expendable novelties would drive them crackers. But Lord Brown of Macrihanish should be pleased. Bonbons, to award them their Victorian label when they were sweet and silent, are a strong export line.
Toy buying has become complicated by the use of new materials. There are building cups sufficiently airtight to suffocate a child if pressed to its face; plastic rattles that split; sharp-edged paint boxes pressed mechanically that can cut like razors. And the hard, brittle plastics that develop cutting edges when knocked about a bit and are almost as dangerous as glass.
There were always dangers. Celluloid, not yet banned but about to be, burns fiercely and lethally. But we are more conscious and more exposed to danger than ever. Which means that sixpence is well spent at this season on the Con- sumer Council's About Buying Toys (3 Cornwall Terrace, London, NWI). It also has a useful table of ages and appropriate toys which could be a boon to busy parents.
*
Present mirth for 1965 includes a gold-plated nut and bolt (15s. from Austin Reed) called Direktor Skruen. In moments of tension the owner can twist the nut nervously up and down the thread of the bolt. A gift of doubtful significanCe.
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