It's Christmas, you're going to buy fragrance for someone

the only aftershave worth having is one that comes in a spray bottle, so you can light it and use it to scorch the tablecloths in restaurants frequented by the sort of be-suited, estate agent, jumped up little prigs that douse themselves in the environmentally unfriendly shite and make you gag when you walk past one in the street.

Don't hold back.