"A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS MARKET, NOT"

"A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS MARKET, NOT"
(author unknown)

Is there anything less festive than the Christmas markets? Thousands of pissed revellers paying a tenner for a Yorkshire pudding wrap that holds the contents of the arse end of a donkey. It’s that packed you get suffocated with the scent of Lynx & Charlie as long suffering parents drag their sprogs out for a day of Christmas cheer.

One hour into it & little Britney has dropped her twenty pound Nutella waffle into a puddle after one bite. For a moment you consider the three second rule & search for something to help fish it out but a stranger wearing Gukki looks you up & down with a half smile & venom in their eyes.

Britney starts sobbing & as much as you want to wring her neck to give her something to cry about, you’ve noticed there’s CCTV on every stall with a live stream through to Childline. So you comfort Britney & part with thirty quid on a light up toy you know she’ll leave on the tram. You’d normally drive in but little Freddie has been studying sustainability this term & has declared he won’t step foot in the car again despite it being a hybrid model; he’s convinced you’re personally responsible for killing the Polar bears.

Fuck, where is little Freddie? In the time it’s taken to bend down and wipe the stream of snot dangling from Britney’s nose, Freddie’s disappeared. You have visions of him running off with Myra Hindley and for a split second think, well at least I won’t have to listen to Bluey on repeat for the next three years, before you spot him at the doughnut counter and sigh with relief.

He’s somehow managed to make it to the front of the queue and ordered a pistachio covered doughnut which has set you back the price of another mortgage. You tell him he won’t like he but he insists he will. He takes one bite before declaring it takes like reindeer shite.

Next year you vow to give them a hot dog at home and watch Home Alone for the millionth time, as after spending money on the tram & forced festive spirit, you’re now in mortgage arrears you won’t get out of until October, unless you put the kids up for adoption.

Merry bloody Christmas.

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