Tuesday, 16 December 2008

3am on a Tuesday

This is a public service announcement from the heart of the slight outskirts of foggy Leicester's city centre, next to the rugby stadium and the gynaecologist, more of a public cervix announcement then.

I realised today that it is the 16th of December (advent calendar sent by mother, not in any way evidence that I am aware of the passage of time) and therefore 'tis nearly that most joyous of days; Boxing Day. Everybody loves Boxing Day only because it doesn't matter nor does it mean anything whatsoever. Being a student, I regularly employ the use of the magical wikipedia to aid my research and it was whilst flicking through loosely associated subjects on said magical pedia (loosely i.e. Bronte to Book to Paper to Ancient Aztec Culture) that I thought the thought that we all think, "what is Boxing Day?" or more specifically "why is Boxing Day?". After the merry sound of clicking keys, I found out the piece of information that has for some sick and sadistic reason made me fairly happy; Boxing Day has its origins in "the tradition of giving gifts to the less fortunate members of society". Fantastic, I'm actually looking forward to working in a soup kitchen on the 26th, just like we all do, it IS tradition after all, I'm going to walk a guide dog, paint some senile old biddy's living room in psychedelic colours for her and eventually (around about tea time, I'm guessing) have solved the financial, environmental and emotional crises in which we now find ourselves. I WILL NOT, I repeat unnecessarily for emphasis, WILL NOT spend the day drinking Tesco's own scotch pigging out on Jaffa Cakes and screaming abuse at my 8 year old sister, who would do that? Who in their own right mind, after having pigged out just the day before, would pig out again? No-one, that's who, only sick and twisted freaks with no regard for anyone but themselves, nobody in this society where we appreciate the true meaning and relevance of the 26th of December could possibly justify being this selfish.

As a small post script may I direct your attention to said wikipedia page where you can easily educate yourself more about Boxing Day, it's origins, why they don't have it in the States (it originates in charity, duh) and a funny song called the Cutty Wren where the word "penis" I think mean "pennies" but is funnier left as penis because there is nothing more funny than a penis. We all agree? Fantastic. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boxing_Day


  1. I am with you, and will take it one step further by not celebrating christmas day either. I would, however, like to shout abuse at your sister, providing that she is not on a premium rate telephone line.

  2. As if I had power of compulsion over the Cromer Cosa Nostra.

  3. I know it's alliterative, Vicus, but I don't live near Cromer any longer. Norfolk Nostra (Cosa) perhaps.

  4. Ahem, err, further clearing of throat noises, akhhhy akhhy, Dave (International bon viveur, profligate lecher and drug-runner. He is to Norfolk what the Genovese family are to New York) please don't pretend that you didn't rush here like a mature maggot to shite as soon as you heard of me, it could be seen as rude. I'm thinking of a new theme, people request a subject, anything you like, and I'll do as near to 400 words or so as I can, just untill I find my blogging feet, yesh? Good. So, requests...

  5. I came here on your recommendation as well. I've got to admit he sounds a little too intelligent for the likes of round here. That won't last long.

  6. Isn't that just like writing an essay? Not much change from your normal routine.
    OK, here goes:
    "Anne Bronte: twat or what?"

  7. Richard, I think we all sounded intelligent in our first one or two posts - wait till the novelty wears off mate, he'll be as dull as the rest of us, you mark my words.

  8. Tom. No, you didn't. And 3 out of 10.

  9. Oh my, what a deep and profound and troubled young man.

    And what a lovely head of hair!

    I'll bet you have a peach of an arse.

    Why don't you send me a photo of your scrumptious bare bottom?

    *plays Kind of Blue in background to set the mood for doffing your trousers*

  10. Boxing Day is an after-Christmas shopping holiday in the sister colonies, Australia and Canada.
    It is the single biggest insane retail event of the year fueld by the zany madcap antics of parsimonious sociopaths willing to stay up all night and kill others in order to save a few bucks on an Ipod.

    How quaint that it is supposed to be a day to make amends to those less fortunate. I eschew such nonsense and remain ensconced in my cozy estate to watch The Life Of Brian and remember the true meaning of the hollowdays.

    We all need to be reminded from time to time that what this Jesus fellow failed to recognise was that the poor ARE the problem.

  11. Richard, I shall take that as an almost compliment.
    MJ, through some miraculous feat of drunken association, you have reminded me of a younger version of the Queen Mother, quite without any possible similarities between the two of you (though I heard she was a rampant nympho in her youth) or any logical comparison. I hope you don't mind. I love Miles Davis.
    Vicus, help

  12. Help?
    These people are a little overwhelming, but see them as lost souls wandering the corridors of the electric internet, trying to gather the warmth of human affection. They are the homeless person you normally trip over as you are ejected from your local boozer, except now they are on your virtual doorstep. Do your best to view them kindly even though it is evident most of them are beyond help. They are harmless, lost souls and if they were able would thank you for bringing some light into their dark lives. Your quest has begun. Educate and nurture the world.

  13. Vicus forced me to come here undre threat of visual torture. He was going to send me pictures of himself.

    I can't have that sort of thing coming into my house. I have children.

  14. Dickens didn't give up after two chapters, you know, he went on to bore us for 30 years or more.