Hail the Conquering
Heroine
The Missus is back home
from Los Angeles! Please don't confuse that exclamation mark with an
expression of joy, it's more an expression of consternation. Don't
get me wrong, I really wanted her to come home, but as soon as she
arrived I was reminded of why I really wanted her to go away in the
first place. At least the bruises on my shins got the chance to heal
a bit before they go back to having the shit kicked out of them in
bed again.
She said that she was
delighted and relieved to be home again, although I suspect that the
real reason for her relief is her coming home to find that the flat
had not burned down, exploded, imploded, ceased to exist, or had been
warped into a parallel dimension. She was also impressed that the
flat was neat, tidy, had no cave paintings on the walls and no faecal
matter had been thrown around. She gets quite precious with our home.
She can handle a small amount of untidiness but any kind of dirt
accumulation causes her to progress to near nervous breakdown levels
of stress.
Jolly Old St. Coke
 |
| Jolly Old St Nick ... |
So now that we're all
“coupley” again, the Missus has suggested that this weekend we go
shopping for Christmas presents. Bah humbug. I remember when I was a
child Christmas was all about the baby Jesus, his homeless parents
and 3 blinged-out pimps giving presents of gold, frankincense and
pizza. Now people worship a magical elephantine Inuit who sold out to
the Coca Cola company. Jolly old Saint Nick wore a GREEN suit until
the Coke company decided to paint him wearing a RED suit. The image
stuck and now everyone recognises the red suited old man.
 |
| ...Is Now a Greedy Non-Sharing Bastard |
So now Santa drinks
syrupy caffeine soft drinks and tells anyone who will listen that
the 'Holidays are coming, holidays are coming' etc. If I were Santa
and that was my legacy I would sooner ignore the cookies and milk
lying on the living room table and instead drink the bleach under the
kitchen sink. Still, if dear old Sanity Claus can embrace consumerism
then why shouldn't we? And so cue toy adverts shown during children's
cartoons and Marks and Spencers adverts with their food porn for
middle class adults, and we'll all go out shopping.
Christmas: The Nation's Favourite Bloodsport.
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| Baby Jesus Wants a Buzz Lightyear for His Birthday |
Christmas Traditions
Christmas has a number
of traditions, chief of which is panic buying food. It is truly
beyond me why people feel the need to buy 6 months worth of bread and
milk just because the shops are closed for 1 day. Perhaps if people
did not eat 6 months worth of food in 6 days, then there would be no
need for useless New Year's resolutions, such as pledges to shrink
the engorged size of the arse a man has accrued over Christmas.
Another tradition is to
endure the Queen’s speech. It's amusing to be lectured on the state
of the nation by an old crone who has never truly tasted the hardship
that most of her subjects live with daily. I would sooner listen to
the stuttering nonsense dribbled by Colin Firth and his attempts at a
King’s speech. Many Scottish people reject the Queen’s speech and
instead look for meaningful social commentary and pearls of wisdom by
the expert in all cheese-related matters, Wallace and his
intellectual pet pooch Gromit.
Please, Stop Breathing so Loudly.
After the celebrations
of Christmas Day comes the collapsed pudding that is Boxing Day.
Boxing Day is a national day of penance. We punish ourselves for
feasting like kings the day before by lying on the sofa with turkey
sandwiches and paracetamol on tap. That's why Boxing Day is the
quietest day of the year. Ungodly headaches caused by the excesses of
Christmas now make hearing your own soft breath feel like Satan is
rubbing a cheese grater against your face.
And so Merry
Christmas to all, and to all a bearable Boxing Day.
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