What will you be blaming Christmas for this year?

WHETHER you are skint, hungover or fat, blame it all on Jesus’s birthday.

Being skint in January
It is definitely not your fault you spent an absurd amount of money an organic tree, a premium gin advent calendar, an iPad for your toddler and designer gifts for your dog who has no idea what Christmas is.

Being overweight
Everyone knows that during December, mince pies jump into your mouth, extra drinks are poured down your throat and cake, chocolate and leftover roast potatoes chase you around the house with axes until you consume them.  Thanks a lot, Jesus.

Being a pisshead
It’s Christmas who will say ‘let’s do shots’ and ‘we should open a fourth bottle of wine because t’is the season to be merry as fuck’. And Christmas will be no help at all when your head feels like it’s filled with gravel and bleach.

Being a shit parent
The kids are up late eating chocolate oranges and slowly turning feral but this is nothing to do with the fact that you had a few sherries at lunchtime and you are too tired to be a parent. Christmas is the head of a vast, multi-national conspiracy to make you look feckless.

Burning down your house
It was Christmas who convinced you to make deep fried tempura prawns for the first time in your life while making vodka and brandy cocktails and playing Red Dead Redemption. And why didn’t Christmas buy a fire extinguisher? Christmas is an untrustworthy son of a bitch.


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Ex-boyfriends offering bad sex for Christmas

THE nation’s ex-boyfriends have texted offering a token gift and perfunctory, fumbled sex as a marvellous Christmas treat.

Across Britain, former partners have sent short, hopeful messages combining seasonal greetings, feigned nostalgia and a subtext of carnal availability.

Helen Archer  said: “Honestly a dick pic with a sprig of holly on top would have been more subtle.

“‘Remember last Christmas?’ he said. Yeah, I remember, I came round to yours on Boxing Day and watched you play Wolfenstein for an hour before you gave me a bottle of clearly re-gifted perfume. It was a major reason why we split up.

“And now I’m supposed to meet you in a heaving pub, unwrap a cheap and blindly chosen box of Hotel Chocolat and then fuck you out of festive gratitude?

“Just because it’s December doesn’t mean I’m going to repeat all the self-indulgent booze-and-sentiment-fuelled mistakes I make every year. I’ve got more self-respect than that.”

Archer added: “Oh go on then.”