santa

now i have never made any claims to be the happiest bunny on the planet. nor can i claim to be the most miserable man to stride the streets. if you consider the happy miserable continuum then you would have to place me closer to the miserable end.
for various reasons i get even more miserable at christmas. truly i become the grinch.

i suppose it shouldn’t be a shock to me but for some odd reason the sight of a long haired man with a big beard seems to bring out the joker in people. add that to the time of year and you get santa comments a go-go.
what i like about all the comments is the fact that each person thinks it is the first time it has even been said. how clever they sound, how smug they look, especially those somewhat merry men who spill out of pubs with their pals. each thinking that they are the next jimmy carr when really all they can muster is a poor impression of syd little.
truly if looks could kill i would be a mass murderer.

so there i am out with a friend (hi hebe!) we are off to a gallery (what can i say it is what i do) when some one shouts out “merry christmas”. i greet it with my usual stony fuck off and die attitude, while hebe giggles her wellies off (yes she was wearing wellington boots). to her it was funny.
which again goes to prove i am miserable.
but there is a moral to this story (well sort of).
put your hand down cliff i am going to tell you the moral without being asked.
it is a simple moral: “if you can’t beat them join them!”
so the next time some drunken fuck says “hello santa” he is going to get a “ho ho ho” and i will have done my bit to spread good cheer.

(and just to show there is a little bit of joy in the world a rather attractive punk lass referred to me as saint nikolai – see a little originality there, ok ok even if she had called me santa i still wanted to fill her stockings….)

(see what i did there? sometimes i am fucking great…)

(enough it is late and i am rambling…)