The magic of Christmas?

Not quite sure what is wrong with us this year. We are pretty much on top of things. A Christmas tree has been procured. It smells like a Christmas tree. It’s full, and even, and lovely and dark green.

It cost the GDP of Lesotho but that’s beyond the point, isn’t it?
One does not put a price tag on the magic of Christmas. Or at least not an easily affordable one…

Anyway, who needs an extravagant Christmas dinner?
We’ll be fine, eating our yellow sticker ready meals (there’s usually shitloads of them in the Granny Aisle on the 23rd and 24th, people seem to feed exclusively on alcohol and cocktail sausages in the last three weeks up to Christmas) while watching our beautiful tree starting to droop ever so slightly.

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Can you feel it yet?



Did shag all. Which was brilliant.
Slept loads. Which is exactly what the doctor ordered.

A most beautiful non-day.

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A minimal sort of day



A numbered print by Banksy.
Depicting a long line of alternative types queuing to buy the Destroy Capitalism t-shirt.

With a price guide of EUR15,000 to EUR20,000…

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The ironic side of irony



Unfortunately no boredom in store for me at the Mistake Factory this morning.

It was full on 100 meter dash by decapitated galliformes.

I could have done with a bit of mindless copying and pasting, gentle boredom and soporific inaction…

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Bored as a husky waiting for snow



Forget about all those so-called experts and other governmental advisers on astronomical fees.
The Big Nose Club, in its emergency meeting last night in Mulligan’s, managed not only to identify the world’s most crippling issues (pint 1 to 3), but we also managed to find swift, easily implementable and measurable solutions to these problems (pint 4 to 6).

Emails were duly sent this morning to the UN Security Council, the European Court of Justice, Brian May, Theresa May, the Nobel Committee, NATO, Enda Kenny, Amnesty International, the UNHCR, the IMF, the Pentagon, the Holy See, the Blind Drunk, the WWF, the WTF, the Grand Mufti of Saudi Arabia, the AA and Teddy’s ice cream parlour in Dun Laoghaire.

We are now waiting for the replies to pour in. And kudos. And expressions of eternal gratitude. And awards.





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Stoutperforming the competition



On my way to the Mistake Factory this morning, I couldn’t help but marvel at the total cloudlessness of the big big blue sky above me.

A quick look at flightradar24 informed me that the metal bird above me was a Boeing 787 (renamed Dreamliner by some corporate marketeers in Mount Everet trying to re-inject a sense of resemblance of a hint of glamour in air travel)  from Thomson holidays taking a batch of eager holiday- makers to Montego Bay, Jamaica.

Ah… the warm Caribbean sea, the loungers, the pool, the pool bar, the dining room, the rooms, the less frequented back garden, the fence, the razor wire and the unknown beyond it.

Dreamlining on a discovery holiday to Jamaica.

The known part of it.

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Rule #1:

You can’t have your cake and wear it


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The art of eating