Advent 2010 – Day Three

I have a chocolate advent calendar, so does my son. Mine has Homer Simpson on it, his has Winnie the Pooh. I’m 38 years older than he is. Yet somehow the designers of the advent calendars decided that our numbers should be in the same place and contain the exact same chocolates.

Today we both had what I think was an owl. It was equally deformed in each calendar.

As calendars go it’s almost as shoddy as this. Almost.


Advent 2010 – Day Two

The lovely Mrs Fatuous bought me an early Christmas present, Sainsbury’s Mulberry Spice bleach. It’s part of their seasonal scents range.

I don’t know about you but, when I think chemically stripping faecal matter from a toilet, I think Christmas.


Advent 2010 – Day One (and a bit)

I haven’t been able to get a crappy advent calendar again this year due to a stupid illness that has left me with a face off of George Romero’s prop department, blinding headaches, the inability to look at computer screen for more than 10 minutes and bowel movements that can best be described as vociferous.

It looks like year will be more hasty tat thrown together at the last second. I’m working under the assumption that rock stars write their best stuff on drugs and that as I’m on five prescription drugs the gold will just flow out. I’m not sure Lennon wrote “I am the walrus” clutching his head and pebble-dashing the toilet. Still, I never shacked up with Yoko Ono, swings and roundabouts.

Today’s (yesterdays technically) advent treat was supposed to be a drawing but it was shocking bad as were the next six or so. You’ll just have to make do with this rambling nonsense instead.

I’m off to bed now and I’ve just eaten a cashew nut. What sort of drug crazed loon eats a slow release energy food just before bedtime?



Advent 2009 – Christmas Day

Poor little Sally, she fell off a building onto heroin syringes whilst rescuing her little sister from a gang of Columbian drug lords armed with chainsaws.

Her legs crushed, arms brittle twigs, blind and forced to breathe through a machine, every day is a terrible struggle.

And then to make things worse along came Noel Edmonds, looming over her, drenching her in saccharine.

Merry Christmas little Timmy, Merry Christmas everyone*

* Even Noel**

** but mainly for swap shop***

*** and that was mainly for the dinosaur****

**** and Cheggars


Advent 2009 – Day 23

As I dropped the kids off at the pool I noticed my wife had bought some Christmas toilet paper.

I wonder if real penguins are as soft and absorbent?


Advent 2009 – Day 22

Do you remember your first deodorant? It doesn’t matter if you don’t because if you were a boy it was probably Lynx. Either that or you are too old and you just used soap and water. There’s also a tiny chance you hit puberty in the two week window when insignia was popular but it’s a fairly safe bet it was Lynx.

The hormone addled you would spray every nook and cranny hoping to

a) Mask the teenage funk that oozed out of every pore.

b) Impress the girls

Lynx failed in both regards as it was useless. An hour after using it the smell had completely gone and teenage odour resumed. This was genius as Lynx was all you knew so instead of trying something else you just kept applying it throughout the day. Then as soon as you hit your twenties you discover right-guard or one of the other antiperspirants that actually work and Lynx is no more.

Of course your family never realise this and you are doomed to get a gift box of Lynx goodies every Christmas. The deodorant is either shoved in a gym bag or used as an air freshener in the toilet. You try and use the shower gel and quickly remember that unlike every other shower gel in the world, even the cheapest, don’t suffer the same flaw as Lynx shower gel.

The flaw both makes sure you buy more Lynx than you need and also helps teenage boys by reminding them of a certain part of their teenage bodies.

If you even so much a look at it funny then stuff start glooping out of the end. Touch it and it ends up all over the floor.


Advent 2009 – Day 21

Will it snow this year the bookies ponder?

No, no it won’t.


Advent 2009 – Day 20

There’s easy listening then there’s comatose listening. Christmas time is Foster and Allen time.

What do Foster and Allen do for the rest of the year?

I reckon they are held in stasis until next Christmas when they are wheeled out again to wander fields singing folk dirge.


Advent 2009 – Day 19

Another day closer to the day each year when the telly bosses throw in the white towel and admit they have been sitting on their arses for another year and still haven’t found any better family entertainment than Shirley Bassey getting her foot stuck in a step and having to wear a boot.

That and Andre Preview.


Advent 2009 – Day 18

It’s round about now that the vicars start appearing on “Thought for the day” bleating on about how in todays consumer culture we should remember Jesus and the true meaning of Christmas.

Funny they never mention the true meaning was closer to a load of naked pagans rolling around in mud to give thanks to some earth goddess for not letting them starve during the winter months.

That they stole.

And now Coca Cola has stolen it from them.

Cry me a river.