It is the time of year where people are wont to say to me (not just me, you fool) “Are you ready for Christmas?” I remain unsure as to how to respond. Sadly, I am never ready for Christmas. Each year the contrived atmosphere of jollity affects me less, and I begin to suspect that I am some alien species from the planet WTF, being punished for some undefined crime by witnessing the ridiculous antics of the native species here.
No, I am not fucking ready for the constant repetition of the same crap dirges each time I call into Sainsburys for my supply of horse tranquilizer that I find a necessity at this time of year.
No, I will never be sodding ready for the word ‘Christmas’ being used twice in every sentence on the electric television.
No, I am buggered if I am ready to even add any more examples of stuff for which I am not ready.
On a more cheering note, perspicacious readers will have noticed that our old friend Wackford Gove has been told off, with a warning of a detention if it happens again, if he continues to use and encourage the use of by his staff, private emails as a medium for communicating government related business.
“P-r-o pro s-e-e-d seed y-o-u-r your proseedyour –noun insubstantive - follow it”.