– ANDERS FLAGSTAD

You can just leave it lying there and walk away.

You know, you don’t always have to open a gift.

That’s Alfred Pilger’s advice to you, given FREE OF CHARGE. Not something Alfred does often. But hey! He’s in a generous mood. It is his birthday after all tomorrow. And Alfred’s very experienced now (unfortunately) in the whole garlicky, greasy lips, leaving-a-gift-lying-there business. He’s experienced, because he didn’t. He didn’t leave his gifts lying there. Bad Alfred.

You can. Especially if the gift reeks of garlic, is made of greasy, sweating rubber and has lips. Then you absolutely should. You should walk,maybe even run away. As fast as you can. You may just have an LHB on your hands.

Yes, once Alfred’s life was bliss. He lived alone, saved money, had a mortgage, did his job, exercised, ate right, took his vitamins and flossed. His life was, in his own words, perfect. It was perfect because he’d crafted it that way – the maximum of peace with the of minimum of pain. Perfect. Until he started opening gifts.