#24 Groupon

Few corporate success stories offer better proof of the Western world's enduring sinistry than the rise of Groupon. The website is said to be preparing an IPO valuing it at $25bn. Consider the creepiness of the services the company provides, and you begin to realise just how dark a world we are living in.

It seems harmless enough. Every day users of the site simply receive a couple of emails. But all is not what it seems. These missives arrive in the dead of night, like storks delivering babies, or Scooterman (on whom more later). Each advertises a special one-off deal, more often than not an activity suitable only for someone using a date to counteract crippling natural deficiencies. As a general life rule, the suffix 'for two' should be avoided wherever possible.

If you think this is an exaggeration, some recent examples speak for themselves: Thai massage, woodworking, sleep-pod relaxation, Garra-rufa fish pedicure, go-karting, hang-gliding lessons, Brazilian blow-dry, falconry. I say again: falconry.

On one hand it is probably healthy that these eerie niche pursuits be taken out of the hands of idle trust-funders and Geography teachers from match.com. On the other, however, this democratisation not only makes it easier but - thanks to its deposit/voucher system - actually entices the dilletante to take someone on a creepy night out. It encourages people to do, in pairs, things they wouldn't normally dream of doing but which 'sound nice' when presented in the right way.

In short, it is a factory of sinistry: $25bn of dark feeling the world was quite happy without.

Attic Rating: 7.8

#23 Valentine's Day

One of the main tenets of sinistry is that it confers on its instigator a hidden sexual advantage - leverage for deviancy that is clear to everyone bar its victim, who instead simply thinks the sinstigator is being ‘kind’, ‘generous’, ‘thoughtful’ or, worst of all, ‘lovely’. There is no more telling sign that sinistry is at hand than the recipient (often female) saying to her friends (also usually female): “Oh yeah thanks it was really lovely, he was so thoughtful and sweet”.


In fact, he (as it usually is) was being neither sweet nor lovely. He was being deeply sinister. You might say he was being thoughtful, but only in the sense that he had successfully conjured a plan that combined in the correct measure financial generosity, emotional blackmail and some kind of horrendous faux-cultural visitation, and then executed this plan efficiently. Not thoughtful out of consideration for her feelings, except if you count offering her dignity sufficient anasthetic for what he has in mind for later.


Valentine’s Day is without doubt the yearly highpoint of this behaviour. Though in the weeks leading up both men and women will say things like “oh we never do anything for Valentine’s Day, it’s so commercial”, or “we’re just going to have pasta and watch a DVD at home”. Neither of these is remotely true. Firstly, no self-respecting Western woman has eaten pasta since 2002, and secondly the men have in fact been working feverishly to draw up an itinerary of unparalleled sinistry. Mini-breaks are considered and then dumped on grounds of cost, lavish meals served on heart-shaped plates are booked. Theatre tickets to see terrible shows are arranged, and treasure trails laid around Royal Parks. Hotel rooms are booked around the corner. Why? So that for one night the happy couple can go on a mini-break to the Deviant’s Republic of Sinistry, just like all the other couples.


Men do not do this because they are thinking “it’ll be nice to give her a nice day and make her feel special” They do this because they are thinking “It’ll be nice to fuck her in the ass after tying her spread-eagled and gagged to the rickety aluminium bedposts of the Southwold Premier Inn and get away with it”. As the famous saying goes, it’s not degrading if you’ve been taken to the Botanical Gardens that day.


It should be noted that women, in their own way, can be equally as sinister as the men on this day, particularly with regard to other women. Though it reveals a shocking naivety with regard to the intentions of their menfolk, women’s Valentine’s Day stories are deployed as a shocking and debilitating blow to other women’s reproductive organs. With an innocent grin, women happily embellish, omit and lie in order that other women will feel bad about themselves. These statements are meant to make those women with boyfriends feel like they’re second-class citizens, drawn from the bottom of the Tesco basics shelf of the sexual hierarchy. To single women they merely say – “you might as well go and drown yourself in a bin, love, for all the shagging that’s coming to you”.


Attic Rating: 8.1

#22 - Paris

“We’ll always have Paris.”

Ah Casablanca, a cracking if pretty sinister movie in that it’s in black-and-white, romantic and therefore just the kind of thing you put on if you invite a girl back to your room to watch a DVD and snuggle (a high SnI – see later)… I think we’ll always have Paris on a list of things that are sinister. But can a place be sinister? Maybe it’s best to work up from a few different angles on this one.

Books and Films

For this I’d like to introduce the Snuggling and the Starbucks indices as indirect markers of sinistry. The Snuggling index (SnI) is exemplified above and works for films. Paris has several that score in the high 9s – Before Sunset; Paris Je T’Aime, Amelie; Moulin Rouge to name just a few that I have used. Ok, maybe La Haine less so but it’s set in the banlieues anyway, and I’m not man enough to call anything there sinister. The Starbucks index (StI) is pretty similar in concept – how likely are you to read a book in Starbucks in the hope of looking intelligent/wordly to onlookers? Well any book in French scores damn high on the StI and books involving Paris like Tale of Two Cities probably do if you’re 11.

Tourist Destination

But is it just books and films that make Paris sinister? I’d argue no. Look at the number of couples who go there for romantic getaways, to bask in the glamour and romance of it – probably paying a passing poet on the Left Bank to compose a few witty lines about their love. Could there be anywhere more sinister and less original to go? It’s just the sort of place I’d pick if I wanted something from someone. Like anal. Or the students on Modern Languages / History of Art courses who go there in the hope of picking up a sophisticated French boy/girl, but end up getting drunk in English bars instead. That’s just a less successful and probably more expensive form of sex tourism than going to Thailand for lady boys, and probably with hairier armpits. Sinister? I think so.

Finally, the other group who go to Paris, are the sinister boring old farts who actually want to be French and drive over in their Jaguars on their way to the Dordogne, and always have a favourite restaurant that you absolutely must try as it’s the best in Paris but no one knows about it… I’ll trust the fat bloke made of tyres to find me the best restaurant. Thanks.

The French

The people are sinister in their dislike for but reliance on tourists. The landmarks themselves are so clichéd from films etc that they’ve developed a sinister edge. The French, and particularly Parisians, hold haute-cuisine as the pinnacle of their art: a sinister foodstuff dripping with morceauxs of this and that. Look at some of those Paris idolizes – Toulouse-Lautrec, Picasse, Nicolas Sarkozy, Napoleon. Sinister, sinister men.

In Conclusion

Finally, Les Miserables is about Paris. And it’s the longest-running musical. Which means the most popular example of the most sinister art-form is about Paris. Sinister.

#21 Children

Ah, children. They don’t mean it, the poor bastards. They’re just skipping along, living their life, waiting not to be children any more; little do they know how sinister they are by their very existence. And I don’t even mean the violent little shits whom you cross the street to avoid: at least they are straightforward, easy to understand. No, it’s the ‘normal’, ‘well-behaved’ ones who really creep me out.

One reason for this is the unsettling quality associated with almost everything associated with childhood. Toys; skipping; shorts; ice-cream; playdates; paper rounds: all these phenomena are seen as distinctly bizarre when applied to anyone over the age of thirteen. Yet this is an artificial distinction: these articles are in fact inherently sinister, and it is merely hypocritical to allow their use to children, but not to adults. Still, the kids can’t get enough of them.

Worse is the way that children claim to be little humans. I know humans: humans are rude, boring, pissed and depressive. Children, by contrast, are friendly, charming, sober and perpetually excited – WHAT ARE THEY HIDING? Childhood is a fundamental denial of human nature; beware of taking it at face value. There’s something sinister going on behind the mask.

Attic rating: 8.2

#20 P.E. Teachers

In order to fully understand the uniquely sinister nature of the PE teacher I have compiled a list of well-known PE teacher maxims:

‘There is no such thing as bad weather just inappropriate clothing’.

This maxim is used almost exclusively on Duke of Edinburgh expeditions to the Brecon Beacons where the weather is never not adverse at best. It is about as helpful as an Orange Lodge in the Vatican.

‘Failing to prepare is preparing to fail’. Alternatively- ‘prior preparation prevents piss poor performance’.

Neither are particularly helpful when stated seconds after you have impaled your testicles on another piece of antiquated gym equipment, as humiliating mal-coordination and gravity deal you another shitty hand.

‘Positive Mental Attitude’.

This is the call from the touch line whenever the opposing rugby team look as though they all hit puberty in the womb and stand at least a foot taller than the only boy on your side with hairy legs.

‘It’s not the winning that counts, it’s the taking part’.

For an opposing view of this statement, ask any of the dads on sports day who turn up wearing running spikes

‘Walk it off’.

This is never said ironically, nor is it said with pity, empathy or in any tone indicating concern. Instead, it is a method by which the PE teacher asserts his own hardiness, as if your compound fracture of the tibia pales into insignificance next to that time he took 5 wickets with a concussion/dislocated shoulder/collapsed lung. He will further manifest his sinistry by firmly slapping you on the back or bottom, as if his magic caress will avert the need for several months in plaster.

‘Healthy body, healthy mind’

This belief is somewhat weakened by the fact that PE teachers never teach any other subject but geography

PE teachers are almost certainly the most sinister institution within schools in this country. The pain they inflict on their pupils in pursuit of fruitless and archaic exercises is the price paid to swell the ego of those that teach physical education, to assert their divinely held status as the alpha males of the staff room.

Attic Rating: 5.2

#19 Young Clergymen

Once upon a time, joining the Anglican clergy was a reasonably respectable career option. The church was still the centre of the community, and being its head came with a certain cachet. Yet in 2010 the landscape is much changed. The only people who take religion seriously nowadays are the Moslems and some of the Jews, the other monotheisms having had their edges dulled by years of financial prosperity and tedious bomb attacks. Though this makes them less influential on society, it also serves to accentuate their sinistry. In the case of the Papists this is so much so as actually to disqualify them by our own rules, which forbids explicitly illegal behaviour – e.g. Chris de Burgh = sinister. Gary Glitter = convicted paedophile.

In the Church of England, however, there are fewer such issues. Perhaps because of their traditional policy of encouraging vicars to indulge their sexual desires on women of their own age, or perhaps because there’s less incense *shiver*, but the C of E team have a better prison-avoidance rate than their buddies across the Channel. Ultimately, this only accentuates the deep-seated sinistry of the profession. The villages. The vicarages. The pulpit. The nave. The ‘choir screen’. ‘Vestibule’. Vestibule, I mean really. The tea parties, the cucumber sandwiches (often with the crusts cut off, the most sinister of all sandwich presentation techniques), the handshakes, the dog collars, the parties

In the elderly you can forgive this: they know not what they do. Unforgivable are those men in their late 20s, naff of haircut, pink of cheek and palm, who have signed for life to this dying anachronistic boys’ club. Rather than have a life, these men have decided to spend their years walking around being constantly, savagely mocked, both by the people around them and, more ironically, by God. They hold jumble sales and hospital visits, host the scout troop, talk at schools, a horrendous lifelong search, in vain, for evidence that they are doing the world some good, They work all week on a sermon to give to five dying spinsters each Sunday except on the rare occasions where they are bribed by poshos looking for a wedding venue.

And yet through it all they remain smiling, the flatly menacing smile of a man whose whole life encourages people to believe that anything, anything, can be forgiven. If you can do all this then you will be a man, my son, but my Lord you will be a sinister one.

Attic Rating: 6.7

#18 Driving Gloves

You might think that accessories came no more sinister than the non-military night vision goggle (see below). You would be wrong. For deep down, at the very bottom of the proverbial draw of sinistry (or more literally the basement) lies a pair of the most insidious items ever to be hand-stitched from the skin of baby calves: driving gloves.

Some sorts of glove, clearly, have clear practical applications: surviving extreme cold, handling radioactive isotopes, medical examinations, that sort of thing. Note that none of these are situations typically found in motor vehicles. Pray tell, then - for what purpose exist these driving gloves?

Is it so the wheel slides through the hands more easily? Is it so you look like a sinister human incarnation of Toad of Toad Hall? Is it so you can feel the cashmere lining gently caressing your clammy palms? Is it so you don't leave any fingerprints? Is it easier to wipe them clean afterwards? It is, of course, all of the above. No aspect of this is unsinister.

And even if the above weren't enough, let me deliver the coup de grace: there exists a 'string backed' variety. And that, you don't need me to tell you, is the most sinister of all.

Attic rating: 8.1/10

# 17 Cotton buds

The bathroom is a whole new minefield of sinistry; use someone’s ‘restroom’ (sinister name) and you suddenly get a new, thrilling yet often unsettling view of them. Several lavatorial items can inspire this revelation – upside-down shower gel, tweezers, bubble bath – but none scales the same horrific heights as cotton ear buds. These sperm-shaped superfluities serve no purpose other than that of seduction, showing their possessor to be so focussed on personal hygiene that he’s willing to penetrate his own head and can he penetrate you too? Yet consider their horrible, chalky texture, the feeling that there’s some kind of bewigged insect crawling about inside you, and you realise that it’s really not worth it. Still, the weirdest, scariest facet of these terrible beasts is that you’re not even supposed to put them in your ear. Think about that: if they weren’t creepy enough, you’re not even allowed to deploy them in the one role, wax excavation, to which they are admittedly well-suited. Unattractive, dangerous and useless: the very definition of sinistry.

Attic rating: 7 out of 10

# 16 Men who can cook well

In the not so distant past, a man who was a bit handy in the kitchen might have been considered sinister by some, by reason of the fact that he would “definitely” have an appetite for members of the same sex, “init”. It might be said today however, that a man who knows how to handle a pasta machine is sinister for the very opposite reason.

The tall dark and handsome chap offering your girlfriend a match for her unlit cigarette is not to be feared. Overhear a man mentioning the words, “deconstructed” or “velouté”, in her presence and worry. This is not to say that female attraction to men with culinary skills is misplaced; indeed the production of delicious food requires a certain level of patience, passion and dexterity.

The Sinistry lies not in the mere fact of being a man and being good at cooking but the motives behind, and processes involved in, the journey to culinary competence. The men in question pursue culinary arts for the sole purpose of adding another feather to their often well feathered caps and have inevitably sacrificed hours of healthy outdoor pursuits to cross that great watershed in cookery, which I shall refer to as the ‘Risotto Threshold’. Such men are not impressed by tales of vinegar and albumen but dream of gadgets (see earlier), foams and naming their first born, Heston.

These men apply skills acquired in the gastronomic world, to their day to day lives; not least in the way in which they approach women (largely not the single sort). They are meticulous in their preparation, conscious of presentation and execute quickly under pressure. Three star rated Sinistry.

#15 Baby On Board Signs

Female sinistry is an altogether more complex affair than its standard mac-wearing, binocular-toting male equivalent. Women are not overtly sinister; but they employ a number of strategic sinister practices (SSP), largely directed against other women.

Take 'Baby on Board' signs. These are not safety devices or public information announcements; they are advertisements. And not the nice self-empowering you-can-do-it kind; the you-don't-have-this-so-your-life-is-shit kind. If you peer very closely, you can see etched on to the rear windscreen, to the left of the sign: 'I have a...', and to the right: '...Where is yours, You Slag?'

You can now get a badge for traveling on the tube with the same catchphrase. I suppose it is supposed to be funny - 'How could a woman have a baby 'on board'? Oh! I see! She's sort-of referring to herself as a vehicle! HA!' The badge does solve the 'fat woman or pregnant' (fwop) dilemma, at least in theory, but it also functions as a small but potent slap in the ovaries to the other women in the carriage.

The invisible, intangible, slapping of another woman's ovaries in public may not appear that sinister. But it is, when you think about it.

Attic rating: 6.66/10

#14 Transition lenses

Nobody doubts the utility of sunglasses, particularly on professional sportsmen, yachtsmen (on whom more later) and other professionals whose occupation might otherwise threaten their long-term vision. Nor would we, despite our constant cynicism, ever begrudge people corrective lenses: all of the contributors to this site have had had their vision blighted in some degree by years of video games, box sets of Deadwood and furious onanism. There is, however, something deeply and darkly sinister about those lenses which turn dark, as if by magic, when the wearer enters sunlight.

There are basically two issues: in the first instance they’re staggeringly, screamingly naff, so much so that one wonders what must be going through the wearer’s mind in lieu of the minimal self-awareness required to remove them. The second point is essentially sinister philosophy: as the world becomes brighter, the world of the transition lens-wearer becomes darker. The eyes are the window to the soul, and the wearer of the transition lens would rather his remained obfuscated.

Attic rating: 6

#13 The man with the half-pint

Perhaps with the exception of Horlicks, the lager top, and the emerging popularity of slimline tonic to accompany your Gordon’s, the half pint is the most sinister drink regularly consumed. The purchaser of the half-pint in any establishment will automatically provoke wary looks from his fellow clientele. This is for a myriad of reasons, but these two strike me as being particularly significant.

Firstly, the man who buys the half pint is often sitting alone. He is watching you. Perhaps he is waiting for an opportunity to accost you. He will often attempt to make eye contact with you, a seemingly innocent and harmless enough gesture but one that could lead to an enforced conversation, leaving you feeling more awkward than virgin in a barracks. Initially perhaps, you may be comforted by the fact that the man accosting you only has a half pint- how long can this conversation last until an empty vessel provides you with a heaven sent opportunity to beat a hasty retreat? But it is here that the man with the half pint truly manifests his sinistry. He can make it last an hour. Perhaps more. The purchase of one half-pint will give him more than enough time to choose an unwilling victim, engage him and ensnare him for a remarkable period of time.

And secondly, the man with the half-pint is making a statement. He is not drinking a full pint. In God’s name why not?! Does the consumption of 2 units of alcohol turn him into a nightmarish beast one can only imagine? Like a cross between the Incredible Hulk and Freddie Flintoff perhaps. Or maybe is the man with the half-pint deliberately appearing occupied whilst maintaining perfect sobriety, like card players in Vegas? Does this mean the fact that there is a primary school/secluded car park/mini-golf course in the vicinity suddenly bear significance?

The man with the half-pint is the mortal enemy of public house frequenters all over the world. The man who orders a half-pint lager top can only be imagined.

Attic Rating: 4.5/10

#12 Model Railways

There are some things that you can get away with as a young boy, that just don't fit in the adult arena. Public nudity, short shorts, and hugging big dogs come to mind, but the creation and devoted nurture of model railways is unquestionably the most sinister. It combines some of the most disturbing elements of our culture: quasi-Victorianism, plastic (though probably unionised) transport workers, the quest for elusive youth, and super-glue. Then model-makers place them all in an attic - the most sinister of all rooms.

No man should love inanimate objects to much, but greater love hath no man than he lay down his track for his bends. When you overhear your grandmother say that Grandad 'has put so much of himself into that model railway station', the sinister implications are uncomfortable. When she follows this with, 'He just can't wait to get the grandchildren up there', it is time to run for the door.

Attic Rating: 9/10

#11 Non-military night-vision

Night vision goggles undoubtedly grant the wearer an advantage in certain non-sinister situations. War, and perhaps nature documentaries. Nobody would dispute the advantages of seeing at night if you are hunting an enemy combatant, and tracking a pair of endangered badgers for the BBC is less bad than most. The downside to this technological advancement, however, is a device that in the wrong hands is almost unbearably creepy.  

Animals and the military use night-time for cover, to protect themselves from other people. People, on the other hand, use the dark to hide their deeply shady activities from other people. Things civilians do in the dark: develop photographs (often sepia), fornicate, spike drinks, grow mushrooms and eat ortolan. All, I'm sure you'll agree, deeply sinister. Usually the one positive is that we don't have to watch them. But thanks to night-vision technology, the citizenry can, if they really want to and have a spare few hundred pounds, sit in pitch darkness at a safe distance and patiently observe their targets, who are shrouded in an appropriately eerie green glow. Whether these are women getting changed, elderly couples watching television or children being read a bedtime story, the night-vision goggle provides an unparalleled opportunity for deviant prying. In any civilian context the utterance "oh, those are just my night-vision goggles" is tantamount to "I know, I can't believe I'm not in prison either". 

Attic rating: 8/10

#10 The wearing of Barbour jackets in urban areas

Any man with a shovel in the boot of his car will tell you that it pays to be prepared.

It might be said however, that one’s parsnips have been thoroughly buttered, wearing a thornproof, tartan lined, wax jacket which is “extremely resistant to snags and pulls from spiky plants such as brambles and hawthorn”, on a cloudy day in Notting Hill.

It pays to be prepared. And it no doubt, in the minds of the upwardly mobile, pays to appear to have just come from; be about to go to; or have forgotten one’s Mac at; one’s ‘place in the country’.

Such jackets are undoubtedly very well made, but then again, so are shovels. The problem with being well prepared is that it often leads to a misplaced sense of confidence. The man who slips on a pair of driving gloves (more later) genuinely believes that it is safe to take corners at higher speeds now that there is fleece and calf skin between his own skin and the wheel.

The urban thornproof man is conscious of the fact that his suede loafers and Japanese denim may give the game away, but confident in the knowledge that he is well prepared. Deep seated anxiety and misplaced confidence may well be the worst combination since chair legs and swimming pools. It is a combination that gives rise to Sinistry of the highest degree. I should know; I live in London and have been known, in colder months, to wear a tartan lined wax jacket which is “extremely resistant to snags and pulls from spiky plants such as brambles and hawthorn”. But then again, it is very well made.

#9 Owning your own pool cue

It takes a certain type of man (and a frankly extraordinary type of woman) to stride into a bar – they never ever ‘wander’ in – sporting a faux-leather bag about the size of a midget’s ironing board. Upon reaching the pool table they stop. They place the bag on a nearby table (obligatory shoulder strap easily shrugged off), and carefully withdraw two halves of a pool cue. These they carefully screw together, delighting in the way the screw’s thread fits the hole’s. This is what‘fitting in’ must feel like, they imagine.

Although often very sleek and very shiny, the own-pool-cue (OPC) is not an expensive accessory. Yet it does contribute some less-than-pleasant insinuations about its owner. It suggests an emotional (notwithstanding financial) commitment to the most pointless of games: pool. One’s ability at pool usually correlates inversely with one’s ability at life. To celebrate and consolidate this fact by proudly holding the OPC is deeply sinister. Why not just hand out CVs detailing your secret desire to be a DJ, Asian porn fetish, and interest in insects? Carrying the totem-pole of sinistry around with you to tell everyone this is no better.

Attic Rating: 7/10

#8 Wearing White or Cream Clothing Outside of Sport

Imagine a man strolling towards you dressed in white. The trousers are obviously loose-fitting, probably linen, probably with some roofies in the pocket; the shirt unbuttoned to reveal a deep tan and thrusting chest hairs. Now shudder.

Wearing white clothes screams sinistry in a fruity Eurotrash accent. It’s trying to show off your tan; it’s trying to pretend you own a yacht in Puerto Banus when in fact you probably own a row boat in Skegness; it’s proving you’re the kind of person who takes care not to spill anything or sit down on anything dirty. It’s proving you’re sinister…

In case you’re not convinced, let’s think of a few other items in these shades… The chino. The white socks/black shoes combo beloved of the late and deeply sinister MJ. Finally, think of the white boxer-short and think of the y-front…

Attic Rating: 5/10

#7 Sepia Photography

We at the ministry have a number of problems with photography. Not only is it a hobby, it is an invasive hobby, and one which permits you to store ‘private’ moments for posterity. Aside from whether or not these moments were yours to store, and the distance from which you recorded them, there are a number of different photographic techniques which might merit inclusion, not least of which is the most odious of all hues: sepia.

 

Sepia photography originally existed because it made photos last longer. The reason old photos are often in sepia is because of this. Note that at no point in this description does it say: sepia photography was invented so that people with half-grand digital cameras could push a button and instantly create something ‘timeless’. Men and women are equally guilty of this, modifying nights out in terrible night clubs to look like vignettes from the roaring twenties, as opposed to twenty-year old sluts, lashed of their faces in provincial town centres, or even worse, the shudderingly awkward sepia ‘couple shots’, where with a single mud-brown wash, doting youngsters can render their memories instantly more humiliating. 

Attic rating: 6/10

#5 Wine Aerators

Like any aesthetic pursuit that attracts a large number of competitive, predominantly male devotees, the appreciation of wine is a mine rich in different sorts of sinistry. Particularly dubious, however, is the paraphernalia accumulated by these people in their pursuit of an alleged but largely unfounded improvement in taste. Decanters, electric corkscrews, precision fridges and oversized glasses are just some of the accoutrements available. As any readers who’ve had the misfortune to sit through a dinner with one of these individuals will be aware, it is possible to talk about any of these items for hours, often followed by an invitation to listen to a clavichord recording or stroke a new chinchilla jacket.

 

Among the worst, however, is surely the wine aerator. The word ‘aerator’ should instantly arouse suspicion, imbued as it is with a sense of quasi-organic mechanical mystery. This is a device placed over the oversized glass, and through which the wine is poured, slowly, to be mixed with ‘exactly the right amount of oxygen’, improving taste, volume and ‘bouquet’, the latter being one of the shadiest terms of appreciation this side of ‘moistness’. Wine is a delicious drink that makes you more attractive and sophisticated. A wine aerator is an Italian-designed, polished chrome status symbol of the deviant, and should be avoided at all costs.

 

Attic rating: 7/10

 

#4 Braces/Suspenders

They say that necessity breeds invention, and few needs are more urgent than keeping one’s trousers up. Though it might sound hilarious, I’ve always found that waddling around with your chinos round your ankles is a surefire way to be kicked out of the post office or John Lewis.  And invention has responded admirably to this need. We have belts, elastic, a variety of fly configurations, not to mention the classic technique of getting trousers that ‘fit’.

 

Pray then someone tell my why anybody sees fit to perpetuate braces, or suspenders to our American friends - the most sinister of all trouser accoutrements. Serving no practical purpose since the chimney sweeps from Mary Poppins (more on them later), their appearance, usually down the front of portly pinstriped city bankers, says a number of things: I am wealthy. My trousers shall not full down today. I own no mirrors. Most emphatically, however, it states: I if I just slip my thumbs under these thin strips of material, I shall be exposing myself to you.  Underneath by well-fed exterior, I am a deeply shady individual. They inspire in the viewer nothing but the prickly sense of imminent molestation. Make no mistake - suspenders/braces are deeply, deeply sinister. Suspect on sight. 

Attic Rating: 6.5/10