'Tis The Season To Be Greedy

So. Benazir Bhutto has been assassinated. Visitors to LA Zoo have been eaten by lions. Tigers. Whatever. What's far worse than that, the twat upstairs has given me six, count them, six pairs of fecking socks for Xmas!!! What part of "Under no circumstances is anyone to give me socks" do you think he heard?

I suppose it could have been worse; this is the same twat who gave me aftershave for Xmas three years running. I've shaved my beard off twice since I left varsity: once for a job interview (which was the same interview as a different company had given me, except that without the beard I got the job, go figure) and once when Mrs Farty complained it was too long (she then threatened to divorce me if I shaved it off again...tempting). What the feck would I do with aftershave?

What I did get this year that I wanted was:
  • A Girls Aloud calendar
  • A six-inch high Dalek
  • Thorntons mmmmm
  • 2 bottles of Amarula
  • A Peter Kay DVD
  • More Thorntons
  • Shrek III DVD
  • Al Murray DVD
  • Alan Carr DVD
  • Oh and more Thorntons


What I didn't want but got anyway:
  • Fecking socks
  • A ball-scratcher
  • A Bored Desperate Housewives board game
  • Jim jams
  • Chocolates (not Thorntons, but I'll force myself)

Mrs Farty made sure she got exactly what she wanted for Xmas: "Here!" she said as she thrust a large handbag into my hands. "Wrap this in that paper, stick a gold bow on it and write this tag, 'To My Darling Wife, Merry Xmas, From Farty xxx'." Sorted.

Xmas dinner, at least, was a success. I managed to avoid having any turkey or sprouts whatsoever by sharing a duck with Little Miss Farty and her fiancé, D. Made the orange sauce myself by taking tips from the fifteen million recipes on t'internet, and not a drop went to waste. YUM! D's parents and Mrs Farty shared the turkey, bits of which are still in the fridge as I write. Eeuw!

Did I mention my Sith Efrikan son-in-law has landed a job in New Zealand? Seems he's going to be managing a warehouse in Auckland. Oh, according to their website, they sell blinds (amid 80,000 other product lines). Goody, that gives me an excuse to tell a true story about my sister's father-in-law, who used to run a Venetian-blind cleaning business in Christchurch, South Island. He loved to terrify other drivers by hanging a sign on the back of his van reading: "CAUTION: BLIND MAN DRIVING". Class.

So was Santa good to you?