Festively Fierce

Updated: Jul 2, 2020

I decided to spend Christmas at home this year because I thought it was best to conform to the tradition of being with those biologically closest to me. I’ve been at uni for the last few months though, so now it feels a bit weird to be back at home and surrounded by loads of people with similar genes – it’s like I keep bumping into slightly worse versions of myself.


This period seems to involve a lot of sitting and watching TV with the family. I try and make a bit of an effort to talk as people tend to disapprove when you sit there in silence – it’s frowned upon; whereas bizarrely people seem okay with having even the most pointless and banal conversations, they love it – it’s smiled upon even. There’s only a finite amount of bullshit people can say to each other though, so inevitably conversation dries up and the TV acts as a kind of backup generator to supply even more mundanity. At this point I’ll delve into some Quality Streets because eating chocolate usually gives me a sudden rush of happiness which I use to combat the tedium of watching Janet Street-Porter try and explain why she wants to put Robson Green’s Extreme Fishing into Room 101.


I would probably enjoy this time of year a bit more if I was less socially awkward. I think I’ve improved a lot, but my awkwardness is a bit like fossil fuel consumption: it’s going to take decades to phase out – and the changes I’m making are so small that even that target might be unrealistic.


Another problem with Christmas is the obligation to buy gifts – for me buying a gift is just a way of paying to disappoint someone. I normally tell myself buying gifts doesn’t really matter because nothing really matters and humanity’s probably going to be wiped out by global warming in a few years anyway. People have told me that Christmas teaches you about the joy of giving as oppose to receiving; and that message will probably resonate when humanity discovers that the joy of giving a fuck about climate change would’ve far outweighed the receiving of its species-destroying consequences.


Having said all that, I don’t give enough of a flying fuck about climate change to actually do anything myself, if anything I like reading about it because it distracts me from worrying about dying alone. I blame most of it on other people like George Osborne anyway. He’s just got that evil look about him, I think he probably derives sexual gratification from subsidising fossil fuels and cutting benefits as his face looks like he’s constantly trying to suppress an erection. The world would probably be at least marginally better if he wasn’t around and I was kind of hoping someone would take him out this Christmas. Some people think he’s overly conscious of how his current actions might affect his chances of becoming the next leader of the Conservatives – whereas I just think he’s overly conscious.


I also did a couple of gigs last week. One of them was in London and I’m not sure if I like London because it’s really overcrowded and being around that many people always reminds me of how pointless my own existence is. Normally when I’m at home I like to go for walks because sometimes inside gets a bit too intense for me, but in London outside is even worse – the city’s really diverse as well, so it means you bump into every type of dickhead.


I did the gig in London with my friend Kat and the next day she took me to Topman because I needed some new clothes – most of what I wear at the moment is heavily dependent on what my mum bought me 4 or 5 years ago. I don’t normally care about how I dress, so I felt really depressed when I was in Topman because I felt like I was conforming or something. But then my friend showed me a picture of me in my new clothes and I thought I looked fierce as fuck, so I stopped worrying about it.


Anyway, that’s about it.


Cya x

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