“Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before! What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store. What if Christmas…perhaps…means a little bit more!”
Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
For all those sensitive types for whom the term Gingerbread Man was simply too much; get a life.
Notes From A Grinch
Once again I’ve failed to find a a radio station devoid of the usual barrage of Christmas torture. I woke one morning to “simply having a wonderful Christmas time” – which I was not, largely because of a night in The Scruffy.
Station hopping, I was bombarded by patronising twats whining about something called a “People’s Vote”. Could I not just re-consider my desire to leave a bunch of un-elected spongers begged trusty souls like Old Sleazy, out from under his public funded rock.
After a month of television adverts choreographed to ratios based on ethnicity, gender – no gingerbread men to be seen – and smug grinning morons, it is a wonder I have not booted my television.
I have no need for this artificial boost to my senses anymore than my house has a tree. The latter were designed for the outdoors, as were Polar Bears; how many people do you hear installing a Polar Bear?
I rest my case.
Modern Banking
The Trumpit received a letter from our bankers with a perplexing form seeking our tax status. I decided to take a mature approach and shredded it; then a pang of conscience overcame me so I rang our manager.
“Do they know we are on less than the Ethiopian minimum wage?” I asked of the young man based in a faraway land called Harrogate. He offered some platitudes and sent out another asking if I would not shred this one.
In between, I ventured into Bradford and popped into the main branch. The once ornate banking hall has been ripped to bits and now looks like an airport check-in lounge only that there is hardly anybody there. If travel operators ran their businesses like this nobody would ever bother going away.
A week on and I am still staring at the form with the shredder looking ominous again.
Extended Opening – The Scruffy
As she wolfed down her fourth dish of the Tuesday chilli to follow a family pack of chocolate buttons, Our Jackie was fattening up for a tilt at slimmer of the year 2019. The quiz league faithful looked on like timid hyenas as the lioness devoured their feast.
Safe in the knowledge that sprinting was beyond her I suggested they might have to widen the bar to get her out. Meanwhile, Smouldering Sue was in litigious mood sat at the end of the bar.
“‘Ey you come ‘ere!” she gestured, the blinged up fingers like tasers beckoning me forth “what’s this about me an’ Benidorm in that rag o’ yours?”
I took my punishment and promised an editorial apology for The Scruffy’s Judith Chalmers. As I walked back to my seat a local offered the following, on the basis of anonymity of course.
“She’s never been further than Blackpool!”
Quote Of The Week
Up popped my local MP with his views on Brexit to fly the flag for us in Westminster.
“Bradford is one of the most deprived cities in the UK, with high unemployment and low wage growth, and this deal will do nothing to improve this situation, but will instead leave people even poorer.”
Which begs the question why his local authority seems hell-bent on building £300k plus houses on green fields to fund bonus pots of CEOs rather than truly affordable housing.
The Perfect Gift
Conscious about putting a few pounds on over Christmas? Imagine the look of delight on your loved one’s face Christmas morning as they unwrap this simple to use training tool? No need for a Fitbit…it’s all here.
Perfect for legs, bums, tums and any other bit that needs shaking till sweat runs like a river. You can control this from your bed, directing the user to your compost heap; if the wailing and moaning gets too loud, simply close the window.
Assuage any doubts by selling the environmental and financial benefits of turning waste back into compost. And all for £1.59 for the plastic model which I would advocate as, should they seek to assault you, it will hurt far less.
Photo Of The Week
‘Nob ‘Ed Korna’s Christmas night out featured the usual array of “fashion”. Featured are landlord Michael, Happy Days and Fat Lad in amongst. Vogue did not wish to comment and after several hours few of the above could too.
Happy Christmas Camouflage Carl
It’s been a rough year for one local character at The Scruffy. So it was heart-warming to see him in great form the other night on the road to recovery. How nice of his wife to send us a heartfelt card, presumably for all our words of comfort throughout.
It read simply “The Arseholes in the Corner”.
That’s it for this year so thanks for reading and also for the marvellous support offered to us with The Trumpit which will be back in February.
Happy Christmas!
Leave a Reply