Tag Archives: Father Christmas

‘Twas the Week Before Christmas

Hipster-Christmas-eCommerce1‘Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the house
I could hear a strange scuttle – please God, not a mouse –
I’d rewired the doorbell with cynical care,
In hopes that I’d hear when my parcel was there.

The children next door had now gone to their beds,
Having spent the whole evening screaming off their heads.
And my friends in their onesies, with gifts yet to wrap,
Had just settled our brains to watch Christmassy crap.

When out on the street there arose such a clatter,
We looked up from Netflix to say “what’s the matter?”
Away to the front door I went, unaware
That I’d stepped on the cheeseboard and left my sock there.

Some rushed along with me to look at the street,
While others snatched up the Brie under their feet.
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But our tipsy friend Nick, holding eight tins of beer.

Then one girl poked her head out, and said very quick,
“That isn’t enough beer for all of us, Nick!”
More rapid than eagles his answers they came,
And he ranted, and shouted, and called us rude names.

“You ******! You ******!  I brought you guys beer!
I had to get on a night bus to get here!
I can’t find my keys! I forgot my ID!
I’m lucky the guy in the shop would serve me!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-tops his diatribe flew,
And he woke up a dog, and the neighbour’s kids, too.

And that point we dragged our friend Nick through the door,
Telling him to shut up and sit down on the floor.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
I saw him head for the cheeseboard with a bound.

He was dressed like a hipster, from head to footwear,
And we raised our eyebrows at his strangely styled hair.
His new job in Shoreditch paid Nick “loads of dough”,
But he looked like a wanker, and we told him so.

Though ’twas stuffed with cheddar, his face looked annoyed.
He said (very muffled), “I’m hashtag employed!”
Exchanging expressions of wary dismay,
We tried, as a team, to decide what to say.

“The thing is, Nick, mate,” one brave soul began,
“We’ve been putting this off for as long as we can,
But the fact is that your job has made you act like
A git who takes selfies on a Boris bike.”

“But James works in East London!” Nick cried with rage,
“He posts cat videos on his Facebook page!”
“The difference,” James said, “is that I am a banker,
And as such, I was always a bit of a wanker.”

For a while Nick became a right grumpy old sod,
But conceded he had become just a bit odd.
He saw that we meant well, and though it was cruel,
His true friends just had to provide ridicule.

We shared out the beers and we finished the feta,
And soon Nick’s demeanour had changed for the better.
We spoke of times past, of embarrassments shared,
Of what had become of May’s ex (no one cared).

We ate and we drank and we laughed through the night,
And soon we’d forgotten our earlier fight.
And I heard Nick exclaim, just before he passed out,
“Happy Christmas to all…hashtag great night out.”

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Where’s Seamus?

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Hello, lovely reader.  Are you enjoying your Tuesday so far?

Sometimes the universe is very quirky.  There are things that we know are not logically possible, but sort of believe in anyway.  Derren Brown has shown us how seemingly impossible feats can be put down to illusion and trickery (although less honest Channel 4 stars like Troy and Dynamo would have us thinking otherwise).  As children we discover the fallacy of Father Christmas, and as students we realise the horrors of budgeting.  Life is full of unwelcome truths.

If we are honest with ourselves, we sort of knew all along.  The Father Christmas thing; the WHOLE world in ONE night?  Even taking the time zone thing into consideration?  No way.  We don’t always like to be shaken out of our delusions, but once we’re out we’re definitely out.

I think that everybody has their own personal mythology to contend with, too: some people don’t step on cracks in the pavement, and some people have to turn light switches on and off a certain numbers of times.  I personally think that specific items of clothing affect my day: when I’m wearing a certain pair of shoes I always seem to be grumpier than usual; when I wear my green top I always get more drunk than I mean to.  (When I tried to explain this little oddity to my house mate she said “I’ve got some dresses that make me slutty.”  I’m not sure she quite got what I was talking about.)  We know deep down that these little idiosyncrasies don’t really mean anything, but as grown-ups we scramble to find a shred of a belief system that can comfort us in the absence of childhood fantasies.

Is that necessarily a bad thing?  Are we allowed to keep our bizarre beliefs because we can’t cling on to the old ones (without looking weird to other people)?  Is it better to have funny little habits than live completely in the real world?  I wouldn’t know, because I secretly think that leprechauns are probably real.  But if you are the kind of person who lives completely in the real world, do you think it’s better your way, or do you wish you could still believe in unicorns?  (Seriously.  It’s not that big of an evolutionary jump from horses.)

I think that it’s ok to have your own slightly odd belief system, as long as it’s not hurting anyone else or in complete defiance of fact.  If I said that I didn’t believe in dinosaurs, that would be stupid, and science would bitch slap me.  If I said that I didn’t believe in gay marriage, that would be stupid and wrong and my friends would bitch slap me.  (American politicians seem to get away with both of those quite a lot, by the way.  Someone over there be a dear and do some bitch slapping for the rest of us.)

I’m obviously not completely serious about the leprechauns and unicorns, but there is a part of me that thinks “well, why not?”  It may be wishful thinking, or it could be that the world is a big place and there must be thousands of undiscovered things in it, but who’s to say that bizarre things like that don’t actually exist?

OK, I know I’m being a bit silly.  But as an adult it’s my right to believe in whatever I want to, and as a fairly childish adult I’m going to choose mythological creatures.  If there is such a thing as leprechauns, I absolutely want to be friends with one.  His name will be Seamus, he will be an excellent Irish dancer and he will smoke a pipe.