CHRISTMAS is all but here. We have been warned that, in homage to the recession, the Wilmot clan will not be celebrating it this year.
Well, that is not exactly an accurate reading of the situation. We have been warned that we will actually be having a ‘pared back’ festive season.
I’m not entirely sure how to take this news. When you break it right down, what it actually means is fewer presents for me.
Upon hearing such news, I considered staging a protest and played with the idea of boycotting the entire shindig – but the flip side of that would mean absolutely no presents at all, which is simply not an option.
After reviewing the situation, I’ve come to just one conclusion: my parents are just using the recession as an excuse to try to wean their children off presents.
We’ve had a good run of it, I’ll admit. Some would perhaps use that unfortunate word ‘spoilt’, but I don’t think there is any need for that kind of language around here.
Ever since Santa stopped delivering presents to our humble abode following an unfortunate misunderstanding between my baby brother and Rudolf, the parents have taken up the mantle and tried to make up for the loss of Santa’s gifts.
I won’t go into too much detail, but all I’ll say is that baby brother (he’s 22) thought there was a burglar outside and climbed onto the roof with a baseball bat. He saw Santa going down the chimney, there was an altercation, and things got nasty. Brother got thrown off the roof, Rudolf got a black eye. The guards were called. You know, it just got messy.
Anyway, by association, my sister and I had our names blackened in the North Pole. We did launch an appeal against this decision, but again, there was another misunderstanding, which I am legally bound not to speak about, because a certain someone doesn’t come out of the whole thing looking too well (I won’t name any names, but, em … he’s fond of wearing red – take from that what you will). As a result, the entire Wilmot clan does not feature on Santa’s gift list.
Yes, children, it is true: if you are naughty and attack Santa with a baseball bat, he will knock you off the good list and stop delivering presents to your house. I am living proof of this – so be good, and all that jazz. Now, where was I? Yes, the recession and Christmas.
In fairness to my parents, they have really embraced the recession with gusto. Papa is a regular visitor to Lidl (or is it Aldi? Who knows? They are all the same to me). He has become fond of purchasing hedge trimmers and the likes for knock-down prices.
Following an unexpected encounter with an electricity bill, Mama has taken to switching the lights off at every given opportunity. She has also insisted that bulbs that have blown in the kitchen not be replaced. I can only presume that this is some ingenious money-saving exploit, although I have yet to receive confirmation of this. Reason would suggest it is either that or an aversion to light.
And so, under the cover of darkness last week, I decided I would write a Christmas rap (I was on a week off – and thank you all for your kind letters of concern as to my whereabouts, you bastards).
Anyway, I’m toying with including the words ‘Christmas wonderland’, ‘festive funderland’, ‘ho-ho-ho’ and ‘yo-yo-yo’. Other possible lines include “recession in the clan, Christmas ain’t going to plan” and “Santa ain’t getting no Fanta this year – him and his reindeer can go stick it – we are going to picket … the North Pole”.
I also plan on including this gem: “There were legal complications over an altercation last vacation so he can stick Christmas up his...” Something along those lines, anyway.
Obviously I must fine tune the creation, but I am considering performing it on Christmas Eve in a fantastic musical extravaganza. I shall let you all know how it goes, but, needless to say, it’s going to be amazing.