I was going to wax lyrical about this wonderful time of year, where everyone is basking in the glow of seasonal cheer and charity.
Then I woke up to myself and decided to tell the truth.
I hate Christmas.
There, I said it.
Hate is such a strong word.
It’s too late to think of one stronger, so hate will have to do.
I make Scrooge look like St Nick himself.
I loathe the Christmas crowds in the shopping centres.
I despise the fake cheer and false well wishes spouting from the mouths of people who have bought into the madness.
I can’t express enough the dislike I feel toward the religious hypocrisy displayed by certain elements of a particular faith, when it comes to the supposed ownership of the event that is now called Christmas.
Then of course, there’s the Christmas carols.
Dear CIA,
If I’m ever arrested on suspicion of terrorism, forget water-boarding, sensory deprivation or threatening me with sexually depraved companion animals. Sit me in a room with Bing Crosby crooning about winter wonderbras and alcoholic reindeers and I’ll roll over quicker than a legless pig on a greasy hillside.
Love, Mike.
Oh yes.
I was wearing this outfit the other day and someone commented that it too, was quite Christmas-y.
I replied that it was also the colours of a slaughtered lamb.
Perspective.
Shoes – Stacy Adams
Jeans – Hugo Boss Orange
Shirt – Oxford
