My dear friend I,
I have bought a pack of cards with robins on them
My reply included the sentiments:
… one with an original gratuitous insult would be nice - one gets so few these days. Alternatively, it will come in handy for the traditional "card scoffing" ceremony on Christmas eve.
I trust that they are pictures of robins, rather than avian corpses stapled to the inside. We don't even have a turkey here.
Mrs S does not really get into the Christmas spirit until quite late. It is not usually until the thirty sixth person has asked what vegetarians eat at christmas that she spews wrath sufficient to mummify a reindeer at sixty paces, while I am in full humbug from the moment the first christmas reference appears on the television. Usually fucking March.
At my local supermarket, one of the staff enquired whether I liked the Christmas music. Rather than giving a direct answer, I replied by asking if there was an axe nearby, and if so could she direct me to the source of the music. She told me that she liked Christmas music. I called her a pervert. I was mildly cheered, though, never having met anyone who could stand the muck before.
If I were to see anyone at Christmas, then card scoffing would be one of the highlights. To select the most vacuous, insincere, glittery, unamusing concoction of piffle from the many that my poor postman feels obliged to deliver to me. How I long for the days when friends would take the trouble to personalise an offensive envelope (I confess I did not do this this year). “Mr U. Queunte” was one of my favourites. Tom usually remembers, but he has stopped making much of an effort with the cards.
This year’s selection so far has been disappointing. No rhymes, no nauseating pictures, no unfunny cartoon representations of Santa; the only one so far with a chance of making it through to the scoffing final has glitter on the front. This has the effect of giving it the texture of sand paper. A jolly jape, so that as you reach inside the envelope to extract it, there is a sixty four percent likelihood of your epidermis being ripped from you nerve endings, but I doubt that this was the intention.