Merry Christmas, Comrades. Have you stuck a pine tree up an angel’s arse yet? I for one had to buy new decorations for my tree this year, and the angel got the overhead pass into the fucking canal first chance I got. Well, let’s be honest: there ain’t no angels in this benighted land. As for Santa Claus (also known as Saint Nicholas, the patron saint of murderers), I simply dressed up a Chairman Mao statue in a red coat and placed it in the reception area at my
sweatshop factory. I figured nobody would notice the difference, just another fat red cunt wasting space that could be better used for just about anything else.
But hey, it is Christmas, the time for goodwill to all men. And even though, by their own reckoning, Chinese are not members of the same species as the rest of us, I wish them well regardless. The way I see it, they need my blessings. Sure as eggs though, the concept of ‘goodwill’ is lost on them. Take the ingrate who cleans my Aston – the lazy mouthbreather didn’t even bother coming into work today. His son did though, to beg me for money for his poor, sick father. He must think I’m fucking made of money. I gave the insolent twat a clip around the ear and some good advice, namely “tell your old man if he wants to be employed on Boxing Day then he’ll be showing his face on the 25th. That is, I am sure you will agree, good advice, and an indication of my exceedingly high level of tolerance in this season of graft and corruption. And I’m sure he will be back, because he actually does seem to enjoy his job.
Anyway, I genuinely do wish a Merry Christmas to those of you who are suffering through another shitty, fucked up season of shite in the Celestial Empire. Hopefully by next Christmas the Japanese will have bombed this lot forward into the Stone Age, and we can get back to the gin & tonics, without all the gobshite from the spotty locals. Just like the good old days. I shall be raising a glass to your health, though to be perfectly honest with you, your health would be better served in a place where the PM2.5 count isn’t always in excess of 450ppm. Why not give the family a phone call, and ruin their entire Christmas by telling them how fucking miserably you are faring, because the heating has been switched off and the air temperature is twenty below and the cunts won’t fix it because they say it isn’t actually broken? And then get pissed, and superglue the neighbour’s front door lock. My kids did that last year – Oh, how we laughed! The little scamps.
Merry Christmas, one and all. My best wishes to each and every one of you.