Nutmeg Home Kitchen Scissors

Sharon flimsy

arts and crafts

Work as expected

Oh, Morrisons scissors, you magnificent people, (keeping it clean). You’ve accomplished what no other tool in my kitchen drawer could: made me question the meaning of life and packaging design. So there I am, standing in my kitchen like some budget superhero armed with frustration and a butter knife, trying to free the scissors... using scissors. I mean, the poetic irony here deserves an Oscar. I felt like I was trapped in a paradox, or maybe one of those cheesy 90s sitcoms where the punchline is me shouting, “I just need scissors to open these scissors!” Cue laugh track. Once I broke the packaging’s unholy grip (RIP random kitchen knife), I got to meet my new best friends: Morrisons’ Budget Blades of Basicness™. They’re… fine. They cut. Paper? Yep. String? Sure. My faith in humanity? Oh, absolutely. But let’s be honest, they’re not exactly the Excalibur of the stationary aisle. These bad boys are the “meh” of cutting tools—functional enough to snip a loose thread but flimsy enough to make me nervous around anything thicker than a sheet of printer paper. Oh, and don’t even get me started on the handle comfort. Let’s just say my fingers felt like they were auditioning for a role in Saw 9: The Blister Chronicles. So here’s the deal, Morrisons: if you’re going to make a pair of scissors that requires a minor act of God to unleash, maybe toss in a second pair of scissors for the unboxing. Or, better yet, hire a sarcastic dude like me to design packaging that doesn’t double as a prison cell for its own product. Three stars. One for doing their job, one for the life lesson in absurdity, and one for giving me a story that’ll make my therapist cringe.

Feels cheap. Ok but nothing to write home about. At least it works.