Thursday, 9 June 2011

Merry Christmas, wHOres, wHOres, wHOres.

Okay.

Bear with me on this one.

I know every year every man woman and child bemoans the fact that the advertisers and retail outlets start pushing festivals and celebrations way earlier then any sensible person deems necessary.  Normally I tent to avoid commenting on this as it seems tired and futile but this year I feel the need.  What justifies it this time around?

Maths.

At my place of work, one will often find various periodicals lying around the canteen (a generous term for a Portakabin with some plastic institution style chairs crammed in) and amongst the grotty gossip mags I found a copy of The Sun newspaper from the start of June.  Quickly skimming through the pages, I happened upon a feature written with a sense of urgency not present in the reports about war and poverty.

'Don't get caught out!  These will be THE toys your child NEEDS this Christmas!'

This was the flavour of the article which went on to prostitute itself with pictures of Transformers figures and furry toys that somehow look worse than when I was a kid - many moons ago - despite what surely should be a vastly improved manufacturing technique.

Now bear in mind the date:- It was the first of June people!  THE FIRST OF COCKING JUNE!  This means that 'they' have officially started pushing the next Christmas whilst we are still closer to the last one.

People let it slide when the festive season seemingly took over December.  They let it slide when it was at the back of people's minds during Guy Fawkes Night and Halloween.  Surely now given that we're still nearer the 25th of December 2010 than the 2011 version it is time to take Christmas back and say, 'shut your fat pie-hole Big Business!  You've stretched it now and it has been all ripped apart by your gluttony like a fat man's stomach lining and that probably is not a good thing.'

1 comment:

  1. christmas should be treated the same as jim'll off of Jim'll fix it.

    mentioned rarely and only brought out once a year, as late as possible and with little fuss made so as not to cause too much loathing of your fellow man.

    the creepy b@stard.

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