The perfect list — 8 Comments

  1. And to think it all began simply in a hay-stridden stable in Bethlehem. There was a lingering smell of donkey manure, mitigated by the placid homely breath of the donkey(s) which was the next best thing to central heating. However that domestic simplicity was against a background of rancorous commercial money grubbing, according to T.S. Eliot: "…the camel men cursing and grumbling/And running away, and wanting their liquor and women…/And the cities hostile* and the towns unfriendly/And the villages dirty** and charging high prices:/ A hard time we had of it."  etc. [Journey of the Magi]

    You would be right to call the Christmas goodies advertisers a shower of money-grubbing camel shaggers, Grandad.

    * 'hostile cities'  nowadays refers to drunken assaults and gang rapes and puking on streets after the pubs close.

    ** I blame the county councils for dirty villages and country potholes – and litterbugs.

    • I think the original meaning of Christmas is long lost.  Ask any kid nowadays what Christmas means and they'll say presents and Santa, but mention Bethlehem and you'll get that blank look they reserve for the senile.

      "a shower of money-grubbing camel shaggers" sounds good to me.  From now on I'll shout that at the television.

    • Of course the shop owners would love to make every day into Christmas.  They do their best to send us on frantic sprees over Easter, Valentines and the rest.  I wonder if there's an AdBlock bit of software for televisions and radios?!!

  2. When the school summer holidays ended in September they had mince pies and christmas pudding in the local Asda. That's right, in fuckin' September. What's more the sell by dates ended in November.


    And to think I thought that politicians had the monopoly on cretinology!

    • Just looked in the cupboard – three Christmas puddings best before dates 2002, 2004 and 2007. They'll get eaten at some point. Probably solely by me, which partly explains their longevity.

      Actually, in recent years I've opted more for the mini varieties, topped with that gooey opaque white cornflower custard stuff (consistency and appearance not dissimilar to something no full blooded male would ever let pass his lips). And brandy butter of course, all bought from Aldi or Lidl. 

      • Everything is edible once you remove the green and the furry bits.

        "consistency and appearance not dissimilar to something no full blooded male would ever let pass his lips"?  That has just put me off Christmas puddings for life.

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