Advent of Hate 2011 – Day 1

Is it that time of year again already? Did I really post nothing for the whole of the last year? Yes and yes. I’ve discovered having a small child really eats into your “posting shite on the internet” time.

Yet I’m still trying to do another advent which at the best of times I struggled to get done. This year you may well see me have a breakdown.

This year, I still can’t get hold of a crappy advent that doesn’t have chocolate or bizzarely lego in it, so I’ve made up another theme. This year I’m hoping to list 25 things I hate about Christmas. I struggle to think of 25 things I know about Christmas let alone hate about it, I am an idiot.

Hate 1 – The switching on of Christmas lights

One of the things I’ve never done before but thought I should now we have a little child is go and see the switching  on of the Chrsitmas lights. Ours was down to start at 7:30pm. Here is what I imagined would happen.

7:00 – Turn up and wait whilst Christmas tunes played.
7:30 – Z list celeb turns up, says how great (insert town here) is and switches on the lights.
7:31 – Everyone cheers, watches a few fireworks then goes home or to the pub.

Here’s what actually happens.

7:00 – Turn up and wait whilst the night-time local DJ from a station you’ve barely heard of plays the worst selection of Xmas tunes ever released. The ones that you don’t rememeber ever hearing as they weren’t the X Factor song or the rival “rogue” song or popular songs released around December. Some girl from a girl band that split up 7 years ago released a Christmas song 3 years ago that struggled to threaten the top 100. That sort of song.
7:15 – The DJ vaguely mumbles something about the Christmas lights around about 8 o’clock. More crap songs.
7:30 – The DJ pretends the lights were never mentioned and that everyone is here to hear his voice and then asks who wants to win tickets to some local failure from X Factor from several years ago. Four hormonally challenged, teenage, walking lard buckets scream.
7:30 to 8:00 – The DJ continues to play crap whilst teasing the four teenagers that the competition will be soon.
8:00 – Competition time. Everybody tries to ignore the horror of four overly desperate children doing stupid things for the DJ’s perverse amusement. DJ mentions Santa coming soon. Younger children start to cry as tiredness starts to beat the sweet induced sugar rush.
8:30 – Santa rocks up. We were lucky, Santa arrived on the back of a trailer made up to look like a sleigh pulled by horses with fake antlers. Your Santa may have turned up on the back of a milk float. Santa is said to be turning on the lights. This is good as I can no longer feel my legs and Master Fatuous is alternating between hyperactive running into the middle of crowds and hysterical tantrums.
8:30 to 9:00 – Santa MIA, DJ continues with the crap songs whilst chatting to a very fat man dressed as an elf. I can now feel my legs again, I preferred the numbness to the shooting pains that have replaced it. My son has managed to punch me in the mouth whilst also kicking me in the plums. I hope Santa was busy noting it down on his naughty list as he certainly wasn’t turning on any lights.
9:00 – We give up and start walking home. 20 minutes into the walk home we turn around to watch the fireworks that have finally started.


Advent 2009 – Day 4

Nothing says I love the tacky side of Christmas quite like this

I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest the tax payer pays the electricity bills of 90% of “blackpool houses.” I’m sure there are countries that survive on less electricity than some of these houses.

Inane Banter

Dear Peugeot

Dear Peugeot,

With the ongoing credit crunch and general hard times for the motor industry you may be looking to reduce your costs. I have a suggestion that may help.

They say the biggest cost to a company is it’s workforce. May I suggest an easy saving to make is to find the designer responsible for the front lights on the 205 and the 206 and sack his sorry arse right out of door. Who thought that silly metal spring was a good idea? Everybody else has simple twisty bits of plastic but that’s obviously not Gallic enough for you. Why spend 5 minutes changing a bulb when you can spend 40 minutes flicking away at a stupid bit of metal then having to find a child because only their tiny little hands fit in the space your designer thought was acceptable for prying at the stubbord spring.

A further saving could be made by firing the author of the manual that thought opening the spring was a simple case of squeezing gently at the top. Did they even see the spring or was the concept of the device whispered to them casually at the end of an absinthe filled Christmas party? Please update the documentation replacing it with the following –

Claw blindly round the back of the bits of metal you can’t actually see, ignoring the area specified in the diagram, until something sharp embeds itself into your already raw and bleeding fingers. Painfully flick this sliver of metal around like a teenage boy pleasuring his first love if his first love were in fact made of barbed wire for 20 minutes until you happen to stumble on the correct direction. Watch helplessly as the spring flies away from the lights into some dark crevice under the dirtiest, tightest part of the engine.


Mr Fatuous

I appreciate that this blog post is very niche but the 205 and 206 were popular cars and I can’t have been the only poor sod to have to change the bulbs in them. Besides, it’s cheaper than therapy and less likely to get me locked up than screaming my lungs out and pissing on every French car I see.