Dealing with the sticky problem of Sellotape at Christmas - Susan Morrison
At this time of year I must do battle with my mortal enemy. Sellotape. Other sticky tapes are available, but, just as there are vampires, above them all is Dracula. Sellotape is the apex sticky monster.
Rolls lurk downstairs, coiled like yellow cobras. It has an almost alien intelligence. Sometimes I wonder if this is what they found at Area 51. How else to explain its ability to absorb freshly cut edges back into the body? You know what I mean. Snip a bit of tape. Go back to snip another. Can you find that neat cut? No, you cannot. That surface has become as smooth as an ice-bound loch.
Tempers fray. Strong language is used. Nails claw, but no edge is found. And all the time, that roll of amber tape smirks at you.
Alien-like, pieces cut from the main host retain the ability to frustrate. It mummifies the scissors or sticks itself onto the surface of the gift so strongly you can’t remove it without tearing the box. Now it looks like you've been trying to scrape the price tag off to disguise the fact that you bought this present in the sales.
Do not consider biting off sections of sticky tape. The damage to your lips will wipe out the possibility of eating a quality brand of salt and vinegar crisps for a week.
Buy a dispenser, I hear you say. I did. A big heavy one. And discovered that Sellotape can stretch.
At least it's a home-grown horror, invented in Britain in the 1930’s. It became a world-beater. It’s the generic name for sticky tape. Of course, in America, they use Scotch Tape. It got its name from automotive paint shops. The first version of the tape only used adhesive on the edges. The lads on the shop floor were unimpressed and told the designer to “tell his Scotch bosses they shouldn’t be so cheap with the adhesive and put it on all the way.” They knew the bosses weren’t Scottish, but they did think they were mean.
Suddenly I warm to Sellotape and I do believe this gives us grounds for suing the Americans.