Baaah humbug………
Ten things that make Christmas hell for me.
1.) The Works Christmas parties : Endless hours of boredom and pain watching dull corporate sad muppet people drink lager and alcopops excessively to the point of being barely conscious just because the booze is free, in an dark sticky nightclub with ear-splitting so called music booming away, vibrating the chest cavity to the point of causing the heart to explode, and meaning the only method of communication is via mouth to ear top of the voice yelling, followed by vigorous false head nodding or shaking, with attached faux smile or grimace. Usually capped off with a fight, plenty of street pizza work or someone’s partner swapping numbers with a workmate. Arse.
2.) The Christmas Night Party: I love the family and every year we have them over for Christmas dinner. 2 years ago we had 24 for dinner, a logistical nightmare in itself, but then followed up by a party. Where the hell did this idea come from? As a kid Christmas night was about playing the games you’d got, a couple of festive drinks, a bit of telly and a decent nights kip. Two years ago, we had the hi-fi, competing with the kids electronic games and the TV for GMD’s uncle. A cacophone of noise nightmare which caused my blood pressure to soar. I was minutes from becoming a knife wielding family killer. Last year it was a Karaoke machine – for 8 hours from after dinner until 1 in the morning. This year it’s hidden in the garage! Is having a nice peaceful Christmas night at this time of “peace and goodwill” too much to ask?
3.) Shopping – be it for presents, or just food and normal bits. This time of year everyone is out pushing, shoving, shouting and desperate to get to the checkout before you. The rule of law collapses within shops as people joust for position and shopkeepers rub their grubby hands together at the joy of this festive financial bonus. I avoid it like the plague and so every present, barring GMD’s have been sourced online.
4.) The cost - £447 our food bill came to. £447 I will never see again. I don’t usually spend that for one month any other time of year. Add that to the circa £700 spent on presents and you can understand why I feel like spending Christmas in a place where it means nothing. Like
5.) Christmas Tree Lights – Every year I spend two hours pulling bulbs out and replacing them in order to find which vindictive piece of shit bulb has decided to pack up and stop every other third one from working. That’s 100 bulbs in all. This year LittleSis helped me and we still didn’t get it to work. Cue another £65 spent on LED bulbs which apparently work forever (yeah right). I hope the makers of the normal ones go bankrupt, but I fear the trade they do in replacement bulbs means they are never likely to. Another ratified product from the Ministry of Crap Design
6.) Present building – by which I mean constructing the presents for the girls on Christmas Eve, having had a nice festive few pints down the local. In my life I have constructed bikes, Barbie castles, Barbie Horse and Carriages, Barbie Cars, rocking horses, sit-in train sets and all sorts of other child toy “self construct” horrors. I never have the right bits, the right plans or the right tools. Nothing ever fucking fits in the right bit, there are never any batteries, and at least one piece of vital plastic will snap at some point to be followed by me trying desperately to squeeze the last miniscule drop out of the withered up tube of superglue in order not to become “the bastard of Christmas”. And to top that I then have to force a mince pie down my throat, drink some fucking Sherry, and munch a carrot in order to convince the kids that Santa Bloody Claus has been.
7.) Dates – Why, why, why, why, why for fucks sake? Nobody ever eats these abominations at any other time of the year. Like eating camel shit – which is probably what they are.
8.) Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time – the worst ever Christmas record, even beating Sir Cliff’s torturous howling vomit inducing bollocks. Not only the worst Christmas record ever, but possibly the worst record ever…period. For this one act alone, McCartney should have his knighthood revoked, his credit alongside Lennon as a music writer expunged from all records forever, his bollocks removed and never allowed to write another thing again. How could Mark Chapman have got it so wrong?
9.) Corporate Christmas Cards – You know, the “corporate” ones that companies send out each year thanking me for the business. With their signatures printed via a computer. Godless, soulless, vacuous shite, utter shite.
10.) Christmas Pudding – Dear God. If you invented this today you’d be laughed at. Rich, stodgy, sticky and a bloody waste of Brandy. In fact give me a bowl of Ice-cream, some fruit salad and a glass of Brandy. And as for Brandy sauce…well is it just me or does it look like some perv has just come over the pudding? Yuck, yuck, fucking yuk.
Later, ScroogeJack
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