Jeffman returns and another Christmas has come and gone. One that was just as crap as anticipated.

You see, anyone that knows me personally or reads this rubbish with something bordering on insane regularity, will already have made an assessment in their minds that I am the cut of cove who has a very low tolerance towards fellow idiots, the greedy, politicians (not mutually exclusive of each other, by any means), so-called celebs and… well let’s just say 99.9% of the human race.

But this painfully low tolerance threshold isn’t just reserved to his fellow man. It would seem to stretch also to whatever dose of lurgy is presently doing the rounds.

This Christmas, in what has become something of a festive tradition at chez Mann, your host was struck down with a vicious wee bastard of a virus that I have since found out has reduced the Great British nation to what could be a ropey outtake from the remake of George Romero’s Dawn Of The Dead. Albeit one involving a great deal more snot, phlegm, and a continual interchanging of feversh sweats and ice-cold shivers.

Tickled your fancy? Read on…

Those arriving here expecting a spot of Christmas cheer may be better off going here instead. For those choosing to stick around, read on:

“It’s Christmas time, and there’s no need to be afraid. At Christmas time, we let in light and we banish shade.”

Indeed so. Well, maybe if you’re a politician, a banker, or anybody else fortunate to operate under the sleazy banner of corrupt and bone idle rich – complete with obligatory easy-wipe conscience.

For the rest of us, well Christmas is just a slightly sparkly plaster – you know, the sort they stick on the bloodied knees of toddlers at Playschool, complete with minute depictions of whatever cartoon character is currently flavour of the month – administered in preparation for the wasteland of precariousness that inevitably lies ahead.

Take Woolworths for instance. Set to close its doors in the UK for the final time on January 5th 2009. The name has been trading for 130 years, which has led to the media’s ‘nostalgia’-tinged banter about how wonderful the pick ‘n’ mixes were, Saturday jobs for teenage girls, and shoplifting etc. But amidst all this dewy-eyed reminiscence there’s also the small matter of 27,000 suddenly out of a job.

That’s 27,000 human beings, with lives of their own, families to feed, and bloody great bills to pay. Not a statistic chanted ad nauseum by anodyne newsreaders every few minutes of the day, nor a great whopping figure whose only purpose is to bolster the steadily rising unemployment figures. Makes one so proud to be alive, right here, right now!

Tickled your fancy? Read on…

Not a big fan of Christmas records. Even the mighty Roy Wood fails to float Jeffman’s boat with the done-to-death ‘Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday’. However, there are a couple that win the much coveted tip of the trilby, and this be one of them.

Tis the mighty Jethro Tull, with the somewhat wonderful ‘Ring Out Solstice Bells’ taken from the 1977 album, Songs From The Wood.

Tickled your fancy? Read on…

Jeffman made one of his rare journeys outside of the pub yesterday and was quick to regret it when he innocently happened upon the following sign, printed in big black letters on bright orange paper, and attached to the notice board of his local church:

MARY WRAPPED THE FIRST CHRISTMAS PRESENT. CELEBRATE THE LORD’S BIRTHDAY HERE THIS CHRISTMAS

Well he should’ve seen it coming really. Jeffman knew it would only be a matter of time before the grasping hand of religion tried to muscle in on the festivities and claim their share of the seasonal purse.

Any right-thinking individual knows full well that Christmas serves two purposes and two purposes alone. Drinking to the point of central nervous system collapse and acquiring a respectable stash of loot. Just what the religious bods thinks this has to do with them is beyond me.

Tickled your fancy? Read on…