My wife has agreed for us to have my mother-in-law round for Christmas again, which means discussions about piles and David Cameron’s evil eyes amid the overwhelming smell of Lily of the Valley mixed with human faeces. Plus I’ll have to give the old bitch a lift home so will be unable to drink myself unconscious. Should I fake my own death and move to Panama?
I’m not really looking forward to Christmas either this year because my dad says we’ve not got much money so we won’t get very many presents: how awful is that?! He wants us to go and watch some hippies hand out soup to tramps on Christmas day, and he reckons this will help us to understand the real meaning of Christmas. So what is the real meaning of Christmas then? That it’s totally rubbish when you have no money? I am currently in correspondence with Santa and Jesus to see if we can find a way round this. Perhaps a curse on my dad might stop him from wasting good money on ‘bills’ and instead get me a Muppets pencil case.
Hope that helps!