Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful…unless you happen to be a burn victim, in which case being even remotely close to an open flame will bring back traumatic memories of a vicious blaze devouring your flesh and burning your skin like unrecognizable melted wax. If that’s the case, you’d probably prefer to be outside in the freezing winter cold. But then you might contract hypothermia. So either way, you’re fucked. Not literally mind, because as a burn victim you probably don’t look human anymore and it’s highly doubtful you’ll ever get laid again. But, er, merry Christmas and stuff.
Around this time of year various groups celebrate in different ways. The Christians congregate in churches and commemorate the birth of a make-believe baby carpenter, singing joyful hymns at the top of their voices so as to drown out the droning whines of molested choirboys in the backrooms from any authorities that might be passing by. Jews throughout America refuse to acknowledge the validity of the Christian Messiah and instead celebrate Hanukkah as they tuck into greasy Chinese food while admiring the crispness of one another’s dollar bills and discussing how to further their nepotistic supremacy. Muslims and Atheists meanwhile continue to spend December attempting to change the name of ‘Christmas’ to something less Jesus-y. That’s fine, as long as the Islamic holiday ‘Eid’ is legally changed to ‘Batshit crazy raghead day’ and every time a smug, uber-liberal atheist exclaims “Oh my God!” they have to get their tongues superglued to the Pope’s anus during ‘Vatican Vindaloo Week’.
Meanwhile black Americans enjoy their Kwanzaa festivities, honoring their African heritage by performing traditional dances, refusing to work, inhaling large quantities of marijuana and presenting each other with glocks as gifts before shooting each other in the chest with them. I once asked a black friend if he wanted to join me on a cruise ship over the Xmas holiday and bring his retarded robes and Kwanzaa celebrations to the sea, but he declined and told me his people “aren’t going to fall for that again”. I still don’t know what he meant.
Since Christmas is a time of giving, I’ve decided to finally let little Madeleine McCann out of my basement. I only purchased her from that weird Portuguese fella because I thought she was a midget, anyway. By the time I found out she wasn’t, the media were already all over it. Maybe if I sneak into the original hotel and hide her under the bed everyone will think she’s just ridiculously adept at hide-and-seek. That’s if she’s still alive – I haven’t actually checked up on her in three years and I can’t remember how many boxes of Cornflakes I had stored down there. I guess if she’s alright it’ll be a real Christmas miracle. Thanks in advance, Santa!
After Christmas of course comes the new year, but before 2012 rapidly approaches, we should look back upon the year that was. There was an Arab Spring, a phone hacking scandal, more economic woes, Arnie got divorced after secretly fathering a lovechild with the ugliest maid in existence, and the Chuckle Brothers continued to work, despite being about 92. Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear.
2011 was also a year of high profile deaths. The fact that Gadaffi, Bin Laden and just recently Fearress Leader himself Kim Jong Il all died this year makes me wonder if Team America actually does exist. Then there was Amy Winehouse, Steve Jobs, Charlie Sheen…well, somehow the bi-winning warlock narrowly escaped existential expiration despite at times looking like a walking corpse, but there was plenty of bereavement elsewhere this past year. Much of which was caused by an unprecedented amount of geological and meteorological disasters such as earthquakes in Japan, New Zealand and Turkey, flooding in Australia and Thailand, and at the beginning of the year snow in London. Snow! In London! How did anyone cope?!
Still, since the Japanese tragedy the citizens there seem to have got back to their regular lives and some are even letting their hair down again. A Japanese friend of mine must have been out clubbing because he kept talking about “a big rave”. Good to see a few shakes can’t stop people from having a good time. Well, unless your name’s Michael J Fox. The Japanese economy seems have to have improved too. I saw a Japanese guy talking on the news and he had two boats in his backyard. If they can afford that then they’re doing just fine. I shouldn’t make jokes about Japan’s catastrophe though, the country is a mess. Hiroshima in particular, it looks like a bomb’s hit it.
The land down under was hit pretty badly too from the flooding. But at the very least, the Australian inundation has produced a profound gem to be passed down to generations to come:
Give a man a fish and he can eat for a day.
Give him a fishing rod and he can eat for a lifetime.
Give an Aussie a fishing rod and he can find his drowning kids.
No year would be complete without an awards ceremony, and as the upcoming months will deliver a litany of awards shows from the Oscars to the Golden Globes to the International Midget Awards, I feel they will all pale in comparison to the inaugural edition of my new concept, the new 2011 Cunt Awards, aka the Cunties. You see, unlike these tedious exercises in fawning sycophancy that bestow awards upon those that have achieved something positive, the Cunties are awarded to the biggest cunts and the cuntiest things of the year. And considering the year 2011 was one long cunty journey into the cunty centre of Cuntsville, there’s plenty of nominees.
If these undoubtedly prestigious awards were to become a live televised event, I’d want Karl Pilkington to host. Since Ricky Gervais is doing the Globes, I’d like his hilarious Manc twonk sidekick to do me the honour of hosting mine. Because as terrible and unenthusiastic as he’d be, he’d still do a better job than James Franco and Anne Hathaway.
In the next part of this 2-part article, I’ll list the cunts, I mean winners, of these wonderful awards. Don’t go anywhere.