Saturday 22 December 2012


Everyone gets confused about what day of the week it is at this time of the year but with Christmas Day on a Tuesday this year is the perfect storm of people losing their bearings. If you count Christmas Eve as a holiday, you are almost certainly not the mythological figure known as Father Christmas in many of the world’s cultures, moreover you probably finished work yesterday and don’t have to be in work until THURSDAY. I am just speculating on your working schedule there, not giving you permission for the time off work.

The problem is that days lose their feel. Today still felt a little bit like a Saturday because there was football. But other than that it could have been anything. I finished work on the twelfth for fuck’s sake – the days have stopped having any sense of differentiation at all to me. So, it’s a good job I have sport really, otherwise I might forget the concept of time entirely.

Fortunately days of the week are becoming less and less relevant. Between the rejection of religion, the invention of the iPlayer and 24-hour drinking the notions of ‘Tuesdays’ or ‘Sunday morning’ may soon be as archaic and outdated as the album Onka’s Big Moka by the hit combo Toploader. If they start paying envelope stuffers a fair rate and I can work entirely from home I would be almost entirely clueless of the day of the week in the summer when football was on hiatus.

Helping the weak day-knowing-ness I am currently experiencing today I exchanged gifts with MJEA ahead of her going to see her parents for Christmas. I know – gift exchange on the 22nd. What are we like? Convention is there to be followed – by conventional people. Me: unconventional. I didn’t even flinch at exchanging gifts three days early. I suspect there would be people who would faint at the thought; or at least an outcry that it was the work of the devil. Put it this way: I am glad The Daily Mail didn’t get hold of the information, they would have been calling for my death – along with the foreigners, homosexuals and women who don’t know their place.

I must have been a very good boy because I got the One Direction annual for a present. I haven’t read it all yet, you shouldn’t rush things – you should savour them, but I have read several bits. There is one thing they are very clear about: they wouldn’t rule out dating a fan. Yes, in the papers and magazines and websites the lads are pictured with glamorous, famous women. But, that is just how fate has cast the die: should they happen to get the time to know a 12-year-old who buys all their records then there is a chance they might respect them until they were 16 before marrying them (forever).

There will be some sinister people thinking that some of the previous paragraph was tinged with sarcasm. That a reader should read that is in the mind of that person. It is not for me to tell you whether to take it at face-value or not. Grow some fucking stones and make your own mind up.

Christventuous Image #22: Some pleasant looking ginger kids trying to look sad with their mum who is holding a christmas card mocking ginger children

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