Day Eight

I can’t get to the camera at the moment so you can’t see day 8. I’ll give you a few clues and see if you can guess. The name of the object can go before or after the following words.

  • end
  • door
  • church
  • inda Carlisle (sort of)

I’ll post the image up later on. It’s so not worth this quiz and this quiz is weak. That should give you an idea of the level of poor we are talking.


That’s right boys and girls, the answer was “Terry Nutkin’s missing digits.”

Ok, so it was a bell.


Eat My Pingback!

Dear Hot Christmas Online,

I know you are just some crappy bot but if you are going to harvest the shite I post here are a few bits of advice.

  • I am not unknown. I am Mr. Fatuous. It’s not a great name, it’s not even a real name but it is the name mentioned on this site.
  • I do not write interesting posts, I write barely thought through dribble. The best I ever come up with is a vaguely amusing simile and that’s only because I never got the hang of metaphors.
  • If you think my post was interesting at least quote some of it. What you’ve done there is post extracts of the comments. The fatuteers as I like to call them often come up with great comments and I love them to bits but it’s just hurtful of you to suggest the best bits come after I shut up.

So Hot Christmas Online it is with absolutely no regret whatsoever I will have to remove any traces of your pingback.

Now if everyone can post Hot Christmas Online insults in the comments field hopefully we can get the Hot Christmas Online bot to post crap about itself. I’ll get the ball rolling.


Day Seven

Hanging around the same area day after day.

Attacking others that move into it’s patch.

Likes making a racket.

Only stops fighting long enough for a shag.

What could be more festive than the robin.

That twig is never going to hold him. You should cut down on your fatballs mate, get some exercise.


Day Six

I was just settling down to a nice quiet Saturday night in. The beer was going down smoothly, telly was relaxing and I was looking forward to a few games on the PS3 later.

Shit, I’d forgotten the advent. I went upstairs and started the computer. I had put away the “good” camera which takes a bit of time to set up so I thought I’d dig out the compact to save time whilst the PC was starting. The compact’s battery was very low but still had a bit of juice however it’s lens is useless at close up photos. So off I traipsed to get the other camera out and set it up. I did that and noticed my computer screen was blank. Yet again it seems that vista has screwed up my security files which stops it booting. Switching it off forcibly and rebooting it gets it going again slowly then a few days later it happens again.

Finally the PC and the camera are ready. I open up day six.

It’s a fucking bauble. After all that a stupid little bauble. Even the mouse and rabbit, creatures rarely seen together, have gathered to look at the bollocking bauble in contempt.

Useless glassy balls of air.


Day Five

It’s 1979, your first holiday abroad and you’ve got one of those fancy little compact cameras. You snap many memorable scenes, a straw donkey, a waiter pouring wine from really high up using a silly jug, Dad asleep on a lounger after too many sangrias, a cockroach etc. When you get hope you pop the film into a little envelope and send it off to prontoprint and wait. When the photos finally come back you open them up and discover that due to the viewfinder being slightly higher than the lens you’ve managed to chop the top of everybodys’ head off.

Not a problem with an SLR and not you’d assume a problem when you are drawing something for inclusion in an advent calendar. The “artist” didn’t send his pen off to prontodraw and then get the pictures back two weeks later to discover he’d forgotten his eyes were higher than his pen. Yet looking back at every window so far the tops have been chopped off. This wasn’t so obvious when we had the excitement of animals wearing hats but it must have registered in my subconscious yesterday with the tree and now with this Christmas cake it’s bloody obvious.

I can’t wait for the first angel that gets it’s halo chopped off.

Inane Banter

Gone in 60 seconds

For reasons far too convoluted to go into I’m wearing Rimmel 60 Seconds purple nail varnish on one fingernail. It involved checking for colour matching with Mrs Fatuous’s existing nail varnish. I’ve never worn nail varnish before unless you count that time as a child when I had some stuff to stop me biting my nails. I didn’t work.

Two things are certain.

  1. 60 seconds is a lie. I had the stuff on my nail for about 5 minutes and I blew on it several times. That didn’t stop it coming off when…
  2. I think the reason men don’t wear nail varnish is that it’s impossible to undo and do up your flies without removing a load of nail varnish.

My purple helmet could well have been more purple and certainly more glittery than usual.

I bet I forget to take it off before going out tomorrow,


Day Four

O’ Christmas tree, O’ Christmas tree
How badly drawn your branches.

I’m rapidly losing the will to live. I can only assume the artist felt the same.

In other news, some of our breasts are missing!


Day Three

The Chinese have discovered or invented a great many things we take for granted.

This panda is showing off the fire he invented.

He better have invented fire if he wants to get away without wearing the hat that every other fucker has managed to put on.

Anybody else not wearing the hat may end up with black eyes too.


Day Two

It’s a wildly different picture behind door two. OK it’s not.

It’s a teddy bear wearing the same hat minus a musical instrument. This bear doesn’t even have a musical ability. It’s a bit of a come-down from yesterday to say the least.

But look closer, the cheeks give away a tell-tale blush. What could possibly cause the bear to blush? Like anybody famous without talent I can only image it got this plum job the traditional way. I’m not even sure how considering the bear doesn’t appear to have knees with which to adopt the position.


Day One

It’s a balmy summer afternoon, you’re sitting in the air-conditioned meeting room, you and fellow designers are coming up with the advent calendar that’s going to make you rich this Christmas.

It’s day one, what do you put behind that window? You don’t want to peak to quickly and put the baby Jesus there. His time will come. You want to hint at the good times ahead but at the same time you don’t want to get the kids too excited. Put a present there and the little brats are going to be screaming for the next 24 days.

This is where careers are made and lost. You glance at your notes, swallow your pride, stand in your designer suit and pitch like you’ve never pitched before.

“What about a mouse in a Christmas hat playing the bugle?”

Join me tomorrow to find out what’s behind door 2. Maybe it’s a transvestite crow performing in a ska combo?