I Can't Afford to Feed the World

I should point out from the get go that this is not a blog about feeding the world, it's actually a little piece about the impending doom that is the Christmas season. Now don't get me wrong, I like Christmas  the day with family and spending time with loved ones, the nice big jumped up roast. More mince pies than any human should be allowed to legally consume in a 24 hour period and of course, the Christmas fun time when the kids have gone to bed. What I get a bit pissed off about are the things that go with it, the lead up to it that seems to start suspiciously and depressingly early and the constant "You ready for Christmas" question you get asked every time you go literally anywhere. I just want to say "no, what wait a minute, is it almost Christm...oh for fu...you think there would have been some sort of warning around the time the kids went back to school after the summer. It should definitely be more commercialised." Obviously I don't. I just smile and nod and say "almost" in as non sarcastic way as I can. 

Elf on a shelf is a pain in the arse. We've done it once and by mid December I'd run out of ideas. And believe me, I pushed the boat out. I had him sawing soft toys in half, trapping soft toys in the washing machine, pissing in apple juice bottles, laying in his own puke surrounded by empty beer cans, but I obviously peaked too soo , because I couldn't top the previous day. In the end I just made out the cat had run off with him outside. Might not seem believable, but we have a cat with violent tendancies, so I got away with it. The whole Santa thing gets a bit more sinister the older you get. You tell your kids all year round that breaking into another person's home is illegal, that they should never accept gifts from strangers and that drugs are bad. But then, we expect them to believe that for one night a year it's ok for an old man to sneak into the house and empty his sack into a big sock. Then fly off having given his pet reindeer some "magic powder." Not only that, but we get our kids to sit on some random old man's lap and tell him what they want for Christmas. "What would you like for Christmas?" A restraining order you pervy old prick.

The race for Christmas Number 1 is painful. It used to be that the Christmas Number 1 would be a wacky, funny and light hearted song but then it became obvious that the coverted spot would be taken by the X-Factor winner. Now I never thought I would wish for that to happen again. For a mass produced pile of reindeer crap banging out yet another cover because they don't have the talent to write something original to win that race. But anything is better than LadBaby and another song about fucking sausage rolls. Or worse, a sea shanty. There's nothing difficult in writing or singing a sea shanty. It's basically just talking about your week to the same monotonous tune. 

Christmas shopping is a nightmare. We do it all online now. I don't know if you've ever attempted to go within a few feet from Primark around Christmas, but it's less like a shopping trip and more like a battle scene from Lord of the Rings. You find yourself putting boot polish lines on your face and turning into some sort of commando, like a shopping day ninja, avoiding people's massive elbows and pushchairs doubling up as makeshift battering rams. They say that the Royal Marine assault course is the hardest in the world, a test of physical and mental strength, but I reckon if you send them into Primark a week before Christmas with a list of items to get, they'd be begging to get onto that course. People genuinely go from normal to batshit crazy the second they walk through the entrance to Primark. I guess at least we can look forward to December 26th, when the Easter Eggs come out though. 

You have to buy a stack of Christmas cards for your kids to write for their class mates and teachers. Which means asking the teacher for a list of kids names. Now I know all parents do it, but it just feels weird going up to a person you don't really know and asking them for the names of 30 kids you don't know either. 

Work Christmas do's are a pain in the arse. You have to get involved in the secret Santa, which has a limit of £10 usually. But there's always that one bastard who spends a huge amount because they couldn't get anything for a tenner. Where are you shopping? Harrods? You have to pull a name out of a hat and 90% of the time you get the smelly weirdo who never really speaks other than to make a random noise and who has the look of a person that if you were on a jury and they walked in, you'd think 'there's no need for a trial, they definitely did whatever it is and someone needs to double check their basement because something is definitely dead down there.' 

John Lewis always make an advert which is supposed to pull at the heart strings, telling the story of, I don't know, a kid making friends with a snowman but getting upset because it melts. First of all, what does he expect. It's made of snow.  At some point it's going to be nothing but a soggy carrot in a dog piss puddle. And secondly, why are people getting all emotional. It's not real. It's designed to make you think that if a shop can make something as lovely and meaningful as that, then they must be passionate about Christmas, which make you spend money there. What with that and Kevin the fucking Carrot causing fights in Aldi, I'm glad I don't give a shit about them. 

Anyway, all the moaning aside, I do hope you have a wonderful Christmas and please enjoy it for the right reasons. Time with the people you love. Merry Christmas you bunch of beautiful bastards.