Quote of the week: "So if you ever find yourself with the New Years Blues, thinking, "here we go again, another year closer to erectile dysfunction", then think again. "
Here we are, the big 2013. Is there any way it can possibly live up to the Britfest that was 2012? I believe so, for one reason and one reason only. I got both socks and underpants for Christmas.
Yes, that’s right people, Calvin Kleins and Paul Smiths. It does not get any better than that; the ultimate present, an über gift for men and women alike; functional, in demand and stylish. It temporarily cured any pure hatred of the family after spending a week all together. It was a pyrrhic victory alleviating the pain of
Grandma floating around the house looking for jobs to do when thy had all been done, the mother stressing over another year of food preparation and the brothers generally winging about Brussels sprouts and parsnips being a part of this year’s roast. Indeed, the last thing I will say about the Christmas frolics, as I know most of us are completely sick of them is that my fear of Brussels sprouts has finally vanished. My taste buds have finally evolved. I must be becoming a man.
2013 kicked off much like a Brussels sprout. Starting off in muddy ground, walking through a Cotswoldian field on the way back from a country inn then finally sprouting on the floor of someone’s country house with a beam of sunlight dazzling my puffy, arid eyes. Something much like what a sprout would see if were to evolve such features one day. This was followed by a sloppy lick from a dog and there it was, Happy New Year!
I’ve often thought the main issue with new year is the fact that people make an event of it. The fact is, it’s just a new year. The clocks go round again, the calendars flip and we celebrate the age Jesus would be if he was knocking about nowadays. In some religions they don’t even celebrate the new year until much later in our year. For example the Islamic calendar says it’s 1434 and the Hindu calendar says it’s something like 2072. The point is no one knows what bloody year it is. Being a bit of an atheist and all, I reckon they should calculate the year that the earth has actually been around for, a figure that astrologists and geologists must know.
For these reasons, New Year celebrations cause a number of issues. We feel an intense high, drink a serious amount and then, BAM, you’ve got a severe hang over and a whole ‘new year’, according to whichever calendar you adhere to, hitting you head on like a flat nosed freight train. It’s like we have to go to senior school every year. You celebrate reaching the end of prep school and then you have to get bullied again by the sixth formers for the first few months until you settle in and they get told off for taking advantage of their new found power as seniors. It just doesn’t work for me. For this reason, as I was being licked by a dog on the floor of the country house with my stomach feeling like it was hooked to a piece of rope that was about to rip it out, I thought, here we go, just another day on Planet Earth, let’s smash it.
So if you ever find yourself with the New Year Blues, thinking, “here we are again, another year closer to erectile dysfunction”, then think again. Let me tell you, there is going to be some serious Jet Setting this year, nothing has changed and yes, you heard it first right here.
Yes, that’s right people, Calvin Kleins and Paul Smiths. It does not get any better than that; the ultimate present, an über gift for men and women alike; functional, in demand and stylish. It temporarily cured any pure hatred of the family after spending a week all together. It was a pyrrhic victory alleviating the pain of
Grandma floating around the house looking for jobs to do when thy had all been done, the mother stressing over another year of food preparation and the brothers generally winging about Brussels sprouts and parsnips being a part of this year’s roast. Indeed, the last thing I will say about the Christmas frolics, as I know most of us are completely sick of them is that my fear of Brussels sprouts has finally vanished. My taste buds have finally evolved. I must be becoming a man.
2013 kicked off much like a Brussels sprout. Starting off in muddy ground, walking through a Cotswoldian field on the way back from a country inn then finally sprouting on the floor of someone’s country house with a beam of sunlight dazzling my puffy, arid eyes. Something much like what a sprout would see if were to evolve such features one day. This was followed by a sloppy lick from a dog and there it was, Happy New Year!
I’ve often thought the main issue with new year is the fact that people make an event of it. The fact is, it’s just a new year. The clocks go round again, the calendars flip and we celebrate the age Jesus would be if he was knocking about nowadays. In some religions they don’t even celebrate the new year until much later in our year. For example the Islamic calendar says it’s 1434 and the Hindu calendar says it’s something like 2072. The point is no one knows what bloody year it is. Being a bit of an atheist and all, I reckon they should calculate the year that the earth has actually been around for, a figure that astrologists and geologists must know.
For these reasons, New Year celebrations cause a number of issues. We feel an intense high, drink a serious amount and then, BAM, you’ve got a severe hang over and a whole ‘new year’, according to whichever calendar you adhere to, hitting you head on like a flat nosed freight train. It’s like we have to go to senior school every year. You celebrate reaching the end of prep school and then you have to get bullied again by the sixth formers for the first few months until you settle in and they get told off for taking advantage of their new found power as seniors. It just doesn’t work for me. For this reason, as I was being licked by a dog on the floor of the country house with my stomach feeling like it was hooked to a piece of rope that was about to rip it out, I thought, here we go, just another day on Planet Earth, let’s smash it.
So if you ever find yourself with the New Year Blues, thinking, “here we are again, another year closer to erectile dysfunction”, then think again. Let me tell you, there is going to be some serious Jet Setting this year, nothing has changed and yes, you heard it first right here.