Our flat is ready for Christmas. No I don’t mean that all our valuables are hidden as we’re more likely to get burgled now than ever despite our frequency for such occurrences. What I mean is it is now adorned with a veritable hamper of pound shop’s worth of pound shop Christmas decorations and some weird things Nat got from home. Despite my occasional ‘bah humbug’ attitude to this festive season, its mostly only towards the corporate crap and in reality, I love it, and I especially like humbugs. Even though we will probably not have any round over Xmas, but there still feels a need to welcome the shiny cheese elements of it all with open bauble covered arms. Our decorations this year have embraced the Christmas spirit by being a mix of Christmas and evil spirits. There is tinsel hanging above the door frames which falls every two seconds on account of it a) being shit tinsel and b) it being shit cello tape on c) a shit door, and there is a star garland hanging so low in the hallway that even I may have to start ducking under it soon.
The centre piece in all of this is one small Christmas Tree. It is a very small Christmas tree, but a Christmas tree nonetheless and that’s what matters right? So what if putting a star at the top would probably make the whole thing topple over? Its not what matters right? So what if it’s size means that when it sits by the telly nobody passing by the front windows will see it due to it being entirely obscured? S’not what matters right? So what if getting a proper Christmas tree means you risk abuse from Anti-Fir protestors? Arf. What matters is that our little flat looks all the more festive for the next few weeks until we mercilessly dispose of an entire tree just for a ridiculous fad that involves our only dining/coffee table being wholly useless during that entire time and me constantly getting pines in my feet whenever I walk around barefoot. That’s what matters. What also matters is the series of tiny lights that have had their cases shattered due to clumsy feet and the tiny porcelain Santa that sits by it that looks like it has mould.
Then there is this. This is by far the most terrifying angel I’ve ever seen. Nat’s dad wanted it out of their house as he found it terrifying, so now of course, we’ve got it and myself, L and Nat will have to live in fear of our of own festive additions. I’m sure that twice already its head has spun round slightly just to look at me, and I’m consistently concerned that I’ll wake up one more, open my door and find it standing right outside. I just can’t conceive who would ever make such a thing, let along sell it. Look at the eyes. No pupils, just solid blue as though it may start spewing green bile in a minute and asking us to lick it. This in no way brings the message of Christmas, Jesus, Santa or Cliff Richard to a household, and more the notion that while you are asleep demons will use it as a portal to come and take your soul as their present.
I like this as a Christmas theme. Season of good will and fear. Tis the season to be jolly scared shitless and all that. Maybe people would be more appreciative of those presents they aren’t sure about if they were terrified into liking them. I know for a fact that if I unwrapped a shit jumped from under the tree with that angel on and someone told me the jumper would stop it slitting my throat in my sleep, then I’d wear it 24/7. I suggest that if we survive this Christmas, we’ll bury the angel in the garden under a chalk pentagon and dig it up next year, hanging it on the wall next to a skeleton of a witch and a scream mask with a Santa hat on. Season-hell greetings one and all.
Two small side notes:
1) Yes I know I didn’t blog yesterday. This is frequently becoming a thing whereby I don’t blog everyday as I just don’t have a lot to say. I figure its better to wait until I do, like today when I have such important things to type about, rather than force myself to write nothings. I can’t imagine anyone will complain about this but if you want to, just do and enough people actually want a daily blog then I’ll try my best to not be lazy again, but until then, deal with it.
2) Here is a video of me at Comedy Club 4 Kids being confused by vague children: