Buy early, buy often

As we the people have exercised our democratic right not to spend over the past few months we've seen a rash (a rash!) of new and new-again sales techniques to help us part with our money.

The classic buy-one-get-six-free technique has had another run around the park, the 10% off minnow sales have been replaced with 70% off behemoths, and I've received enough catalogues in my letterbox to make a decent sized thatched roof.

Some brochures have tried to cajole me into buying, some have presented me with such darn good value I cannot but buy, and some have promised me all sorts of wonders like fridges so attuned to my every need that I won't know where my friends/loved ones end and my fridge begins.

But none have made me feel like I'm under the rule of a non-benevolent dictator, until now. Today I received one of those book club brochures in the mail; you know, one of those "we'll send you a remaindered crap-arse book every month until the end of time and charge you often and well for the privilege and all that we ask of you in return is that you forget to cancel the direct debit"-type book clubs.

So this book club brochure is full of great-sounding deals like "3 books for $10," VIP this and savings that. It even lists "six great reasons to join [crap-arsed book club] today," which is all well and good until number six: "WE'VE RELAXED THE RULES - You don't have to buy a book from each magazine and you never have to buy a book you don't want. All we ask is that you buy 6 books in your first year of membership."

Firstly, the formatting is straight from the brochure, including the bits where they YELL AT YOU with caps and the bits they pitifully implore you with italics. Secondly, thanks, I guess, for not forcing me to keep a book I really don't want. Um, that's very generous.

And thirdly, telling me they've relaxed the rules doesn't make me feel warm and fuzzy about being clasped to the bosom of the book club; it makes me think they've opened the gates to the compound and are dangling chocolate-coated books just inside the doorway and that snap! As soon as I sign that direct debit form the gate will close and the Waco-esque cult will resume its normal operations.

On the other hand, they're giving away a free wok set (a set! Including wok, bowls and utensils) with every new membership, and three books for $10 is pretty good, and you don't need an envelope or stamp to send the form away... hand me that pen.

Jingle balls... up

Now that the inanity of my previous post has receded from my immediate memory (good lawd what was that about?) let's get back to more interesting things: a biffo at a Christmas funpark in London. Hurrah!

So a whole bunch of silly sods paid £30 for entry into what has been charmingly re-named a "Winter Blunderland".

Apparently the funpark was little more than a "glorified car boot sale" with a Nativity scene painted on a billboard, a broken ice-skating rink and huskies tied up outside their kennels in a muddy field. Sounds simply crap-o-riffic to me.

It also sounds like another mighty fine way to part fools from their money. To my list of ways to make money post-economic downturn (including selling moss-scented candles and stealing things off the blind) I can now add Christmas Dream Destroying and Bubble Bursting.

Not to mention Professional Funpark Troublemaker... because that's who the park is blaming for the rucus (yep, seriously).

So there were four-hour waits to see Santa (who then refused to let kids sit on his knee), followed by the punching of said Santa by one angry Dad, then a four-hour wait to pick up a present, followed by the slapping of an elf by one angry Mum. I can't wait for Jerry Springer's erudite analysis of the situation.

Apparently one child had to be comforted after finding a Santa smoking a cigarette outside his grotto. Lucky the kid didn't see the Santa shooting up behind the dumpster.

Don't you love the festive season?

How much is that horsie in the window?

One of my favourite things to do (along with publicly adoring animated inanimate objects) is to shake my head in wonder at the myriad ingenius ways of turning everything into a buck-making exercise.

Yeah sure Marx was 'ere 1848 but I doubt he had as much fun as we will tomorrow when we get to play spot-the-commodity at the Melbourne Cup!

There are lots of fun games you can play with the Melbourne Cup, my faves including 'guess how many "race that stops a nation" in the jellybean jar' and 'watch the twitty tv personalities demonstrating why they have autocue and don't speak, shouldn't speak' (note Sandy Sully who, circa 2001, described a group of drag queens at the Cup as "not so beautiful").

But the most fun can be had thinking about all the possible likes, needs, wants, dislikes, dreams, frustrations, delights, obstacles, wishes and/or hopes you could possibly have regarding, say, horse racing then trying to find a product that matches each like, need, want, dislike, dream, frustration, delight, obstacle, wish and/or hope over the course of the day.

To get you started:

Total dimwit when it comes to betting? Enrol in the TAB Betting Academy - free, but they're just fattening the calf.

Want to know how to pick the winner? Buy a copy of 'How to Pick The Winner of the 2008 Emirates Melbourne Cup,' $9.95.

Hungry during race day? Have a few wafers at any of the 12 restaurants at the track. Upwards of $100.

Bit hot on race day? Just wander into any one of the marquees with REVERSE CYCLE AIRCONDITIONING (wrong, wrong, wrong, people). $31,000 for the marquee.

* Please note, car parking is included in the price of the the marquee so nothing more to pay here.

Forget your clothes on the day? Buy a t-shirt, trilby (or gumby cap, above), cuff links, tie, pashmina and money clip. Total outfit: $295 (plus $35 for the race day pen to sign your credit card). (Oddly no pants for sale?)

Ooh! And don't forget your Melbourne Cup pin at $5, or pin with diamante for $10. Noice.

And this is all after entry to Flemmington, starting at $60 per pers.

All hail the mighty commodity! And this is why I will never be rich, my friends: it would never occur to me to put up a marquee and charge people $31k to sit in it. Priceless.