Hate is a strong word. I don’t readily use it to describe something, but for Xmas, there really is no other word for it. I hate Xmas, I can’t even bring myself to say the word! And I hate it with a passion.
I hate seeing people carrying bags and bags full of shite for their kids, knowing full well that the hundreds of pounds spent on that crap will be thrown out in a few months because their little darlings are bored of it.
I hate the terrible television programs. Endless fucking repeats of the same crap. Oh, and the Queen’s Xmas Message. How lovely that she took a few hours out of her busy schedule in September to patronise her ‘subjects’ by stating the blindingly obvious.
I hate the false fucking sentimentality. Goodwill to all mankind, it’s the season to be jolly. Fuck you. I’m
relatively nice to people all the time, does that mean everyone else are right cunts and for one day of the year they are really nice to everyone? Of course not. What a crock of shit.
I’m an atheist, so the idea of celebrating the birth of someone I don’t believe existing seems a little hypocritical to me.
What I love about this time of year is the time off work, and it’s one of the few occasions of the year our family can get together, mother, father, brothers, nieces and nephews.
The rest of it… you can shove it up your arse. Roll on Boxing Day!