Did you hear about the dyslexic devil worshipper...?

.... He sold his soul to Santa.

Okay, I know you've heard it before. But isn't there a bit of truth to that 'selling your soul' bit. I'm not the first blogger to write about this but Christmas is really doing my fucking swede in right now. It has depressed me so much that my mind is numbed to the idea of writing about anything else...

Sorry to go all Ebeneezer on you all but for fuck's sake, Christmas is ONE DAY of the year. Two if you count Christmas Eve. In the UK maybe even three if you include Boxing Day. I can even handle the idea of 12 days of Christmas, but I draw the line a two whole fucking months, which is what it has become.

I love eating turkey and Christmas pudding (not together though) but I don't want to be force fed them every time I go to a restraunt in December. How about some fucking choice, people? In short if Santa comes anywhere near me before the 24th he is liable to receive a sprig of holly up his rotund arse and and a swift kick in his sack - you won't catch me selling my soul to the fat cunt!

Bah fucking humbug.

Cheers m'dears!