The Christmas sausage

Stroppy didn't like taking the bus at Christmas

Christmas.

Christmas.

Christmas.

What? That’s all I’ve heard for the last few months, why should my blog be any different?

So this is the festive season.

It’s the time of year when wide-eyed children wait for Santa to come down the chimney with a sack full of toys; maybe they will hear the jangle of Rudolph’s bells as he flies away.

If they’re lucky maybe Santa will drink the glass of brandy left for him on the fireplace.

A time of joy and happiness around the world.

A time of… zzzzzzzzzz

Sorry, I fell asleep.

It’s all so very boring, don’t you think?

This apparent ‘magic’ created by the legend of Santa Claus lost its effect on me when I was around five years old and realised that we don’t have a chimney. My parents tried remove the look of horror from my face by assuring me that Santa had a magic key to come in through the front door.

But, come on, that’s not very ‘Santa Claus’ now is it?

What next? Santa Claus didn’t have his reindeer with him when he visited the local shopping centre because he actually travels the world on the magic megabus!?

COME ON PEOPLE!

Good grief.

Let’s just stop and think logically for a second here.

What would you actually do if a fat old man managed to get into your house on Christmas Eve? Kick two festive bells out of him? I thought as much…

Santa is a burglar.

What would you do if you found nine reindeer, just hanging out on top of your house? More importantly – how exactly does one get reindeer poo off the roof!?

There are an estimated SEVEN BILLION people in the world. Let’s assume Santa has a glass of brandy/whiskey/tequila at every house he visits – sorry Santa, but in most of the world drink-driving is illegal.

So, I guess next Christmas is cancelled – you’re looking at a minimum year-long driving ban (assuming you need a license to drive nine flying-moose, sorry, sorry, I mean ‘reindeer’).

So, billions of counts of burglary, billions of counts of failing to clean up reindeer poo (Santa, come on, surely Mrs Claus could get you a poop-a-scoop for Christmas!?) and one massive count of drink-reindeer-driving.

You, sir, are going to jail.

Let’s also not forget that Santa is SUPPOSED TO BE GREEN. But was Santa happy with a green coat, like all the other elves?

No.

I will never forgive Coca-Cola for making Santa a sell-out.

So, back to reality, Christmas is just another excuse for us to empty our pockets (I’m not talking about pocket-fluff, by the way, I’m talking about money).

The fact that CHRISTmas is actually a CHRISTian celebration of the birth of Jesus CHRIST, is almost completely irrelevant in this day-and-age.

Don’t worry, I’m not about to lift the lid on the can of worms that is religion.

But I will say that, as a society, we’re almost in a position where we are comfortable mocking the religious aspect of Christmas.

Almost.

Although, ITV’s decision to cut Tim Minchin’s song, ‘Woody Allen-Jesus’, from the end of the Christmas edition of The Jonathan Ross Show, suggests otherwise.

Personally, I love it!

Another problem with Christmas is never knowing who to get a Christmas card for or what presents to buy people. Both problems almost always lead to levels of awkwardness that I have only ever associated with Christmas (and Nick Clegg).

Scenario One:

You exchange presents with friends/family and decide to open them together (any regular visitors to this blog will already know how much I hate opening presents in front of people).

You open their gift to you first.

And die a little inside.

Because they have, quite clearly, put so much more thought, effort or money, into getting your gift than you did for theirs.

So now you’re torn between the fact that you are delighted with what they have got you, and the fact that you know that you’re just such a very bad person…

Either way, you still have to sit there and watch them open your gift and pretend they like it.

Scenario Two:

You meet up with some friends to hand out Christmas cards, but someone you know has unexpectedly tagged along. So you hand out everyone’s cards, turn to the unexpected guest and say, “Oh, sorry. I must have forgotten yours, it’s at home, I’ll give it to you next time I see you.”

Shut up.

You didn’t ‘forget’ their card at all – and it’s not at home, because you didn’t write it. You didn’t even ‘forget’ to write it. You had no intention of sending this person a card at all.

The odds are that you don’t even like this person and they probably don’t like you either!

Of course, this scenario is made so much more awkward when this person presents you with a Christmas card – now, not only do you still hate each other, but they have the moral high-ground.

That’s it from the Stroppy Sausage for 2011. Have a wonderful New Year’s Eve!

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR FROM THE STROPPY SAUSAGE!!!

In memory of my Uncle, John Heyworth.
Who unexpectedly passed away on Christmas day, aged 44.
Rock on, John.
20/06/1967 – 25/12/2011

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