Mike Ward At Large

Witless birthday greetings

I’ve just sent my nephew a card for his 21st birthday. It took me a while to choose something suitable, but eventually I settled on one with a big ‘21’ on the front, set against a striped background. “Happy Birthday, Ollie,” I cleverly made it say underneath, with help from Mr Moonpig. 
I do hope he likes it, but I very much doubt it. That’s because it is, without doubt, the most appallingly unimaginative birthday card you possibly could hope to find. It’s a card that screams utter desperation on the part of its sender. In all honesty, I might just as well have posted him a blank piece of cardboard and a set of felt-tips, accompanied by a note saying: “Make your bloody own, pal, I give up.”
I was sorely tempted, believe me, because the fact is I increasingly hate buying people birthday cards. It doesn’t matter if I’m buying from a proper real-world shop, or from one of those websites where you can personalise your selection and/or adorn it with some hilarious photo you’ve uploaded, of the recipient pulling a silly face or wearing a comedy wig or vomiting underneath the Palace Pier, the fact is I find myself loathing nearly every option I cast my eyes upon.
I hate those utterly punchworthy Keep Calm And Carry On things, I hate those replica magazine covers you’re meant to want to personalise, I hate the endless lame cartoons, I hate the insipid semi-funereal floral options, I hate any card that bizarrely feels the need to remind the recipient what relation they are to the sender (Happy Birthday To A Dear Half-Brother).
My biggest gripe, though, is with the abundance of birthday cards designed these days to amuse the criminally witless. Happy birthday, you ugly fat pig! Happy birthday, you tragic alcoholic! Happy birthday, I’m amazed you’re not dead yet! Happy birthday, now go and have some sex, fnarr fnarr! Happy birthday, you smell of poo! etc.
I’m paraphrasing, I grant you, but those are pretty much the key messages. Hilarious, I dare say, if you’re aged 12 or under, or have never quite recovered from a serious head injury, but toe-curlingly embarrassing for any grown adult.
So, yes, my nephew has ended up with the dreariest, blandest 21st birthday card of all time, because the very idea of me, his uncle, sending him any of the other options is simply too appalling to contemplate. By sparing him the embarrassment of receiving one of those, I’m hoping he’ll appreciate I’ve done him a huge favour. If not, I’ll find him a card that calls him an ungrateful little git. I’d imagine I’ll be spoilt for choice.
Mike Ward is the TV Critic of the Daily Star and the TV Editor of the Daily Express Saturday magazine. Hear him every Monday afternoon with Guy Lloyd on Brighton’s Juice 107.2
Twitter: @mikewardontv